The Triforce Guardians
by the triforce guardians
Summary: A fascist Hyrule. A warfront in the Gerudo desert. Can a band of traitors and misfits restore Hyrule to its former glory? See prologue for a synopsis, or skip past for the first epic chapter. Also check the profile for the clan where this story is ongoing
1. Prologue

Governments, like Kings, come and go. They grow, ripen, and then rot into weariness, only to be overthrown. The two often go hand in hand... However, nearly a century after the defeat of Ganothine in the neighbouring Ardania, the Hylian government crumbled, but the King was not replaced. Fearing a rebellion against the displacement of the war hero, the feeble man's council simply used him as a figurehead, gradually coming up with excuses and lies to install their new ideas, and take the power that was so wrongfully theirs to take.

The people were quarantined, 'for their own safety'. Old stories about a foe in the mountains, hybrid demon creatures in the fields... The Apocolytes, as the Council was called, decided they were true. Through this, they assembled a military force until then never before seen in the lands of Hyrule... Every Hylian male was to enlist upon reaching the age of 5 years, train for his specific duty, and then keep the peace.

Females were to join the military, aswell, but, they would enter the BloodCorps. They would act as medics in battle, and out of it, maids, cooks, housewives.

All Hylian families were to have 4 children minimum, or, keep trying until they get at least 2 males... When the law was introduced, no one seemed to complain, according to the Council. Whoever did was thrown into Kakariko, which had been converted into a supreme, ultimate jail which none ever has or will escape... It is there that soldiers go to guard when they are on their way to the Front... All men of the ages 18-24 were automatically enlisted to the Infantry, older males who were capable in mind were given Officer rank. 50 years later, and the Hylians had a full-fledged military machine.

The Zora and the Goron had no place in the Hylian Military. They were quarentined to their respective villages and caves by the Hylians, protected from their enemies. Kokiri were kept in the Forest, large walls of steel and stone kept them safe from the enemy.

However, the Gerudo, in their desert abode... They despised the King, and hated the New Order even more. They stood their ground, struck back, and even dealt a heavy blow to the Hylian Military... Out of the Council, one man rose to the occasion, and took power completely for himself. He had the other oligarchs murdered, and pointed the finger at the Gerudo. The desert is now the Front.

That was 50 years ago, and General Gano's rule is still supreme. He has not aged a day, blessed by the Goddesses... His soldiers are still strong, clad in their gray armour, square-like helmets. Their symbol is the Triforce - three triangles, points down, creating a larger triangle whose point is also facing the ground. They are all blessed by the Goddesses...


	2. Sand against Steel

Quietly, they all squatted around the small buckets of ice, scooping cups of the slush gathered at the top and outside of the ice block within the buckets, helmets, and other canisters they could find, and drinking, or cooling their heads and armour off. The Hylians didn't have to worry about the enemy seeing them... The constant sandstorm ensured that. As of then, they could hear the bombs dropping roughly a kilometre infront of them. They still had time before it was time to duck, and then get infront of the barrage and meet the Gerudo advance creeping up just behind their wall of explosions... Three things were certain on the Front; The heat, the bombs, and the ever-present alertness one had to have in order to survive the bombs and the heat, and in order to make strong attacks.

The war was going nowhere, fast. Meathos sat in the trench, unlike his company, knowing that the cold sand would stay cold, unlike their water that would boil once they had to get moving. He heard a renegade bomb explode about 30 metres from the line. Shrapnel nailed a man just above him in the throat... It wasn't the fire that killed, it was the screaming metal that spawned from the fire.

The exact range of the bombs was yet to be discovered. Depending on the way they landed, shrapnel may fly five metres, or thirty. All a man could do was get down, and hope his luck holds out. That's all a Hylian soldier had: Duty, and luck.

Crouching in his trench, Jedam held his position among the thousands of Gerudos called to arms against the advancing Hylians. In one aspect, the Gerudos were at a great disadvantage to these advancers; new weapons and 'strategies' of warfare had greatly limited their ability to fight back. The only advantage these desert people did posses -- save their sandstorm -- was their heavier population.

Now the men and women of the great desert had been brought forth into these trenches, surrounded by a rain of painful death. They found little honor in dying this way: torn apart, limb from limb, by these foreign objects. Yet, their determination had not faltered. These enemies had not only taken what was not theirs: the Zora's domain, Death Mountain... they had advanced to the Gerudo's own home, and this home's inhabitants would not allow outsiders to overtake it.

He clenched the hilt of the sword laying next to him. Soon this rain of death would end. Then the warriors of both sides would exit their trenches, rushing into to yet another form of death. It mattered not to Jedam, though. Death would be a welcome phenomenon, taking him away from this hell.

Within a few minutes, the entire Hylian force was in the bunkers and trenches, holding their ears, breath... A few minutes after that, and they found themselves flying over the top, running as fast as they could to get away from the barrage as quickly as possible. The Hellriders, as Meathos' battalion was called, consisted of many soldiers with long, two-handed swords, and no shield.

They were slightly heavier armoured, which slowed them down some, but also saved lives. The Hellriders ran into the sandstorm, swords sheathed. They threw the hoods of their cloaks up, put their square helmets on top, and pulled their masks from their packs. The Hellrider masks looked something like insects, with their bulging visor and armoured mouth/nose piece covering a cloth.

The visor was made of glass and sucked onto the face, around the eyes. the facepiece was strapped to the small 'horns', or nobs on the sides of the helmets to help keep sand and dust out. They were silver.

Meathos strapped everything on, and started running. Through the orange haze, the yellow cloud, the small, choking sun came explosive precipitation... Never taking his eyes off the bombs, Meathos tried to outrun the growing balls of death, falling to his stomach whenever he heard, or anticipated an explosion. A bomb came close. He dropped. He felt the shrapnel whiz by his head, and take a piece out of his cloak. He crawled forward. He could hear nothing but bombs and the dull background screaming. He could see nothing but the yellow sand infront of him, and the orange, flowing sky.

He was seperated from his Hellriders. He clambered into a bombshell hole, for no bomb ever hit the same place twice in one barrage... He couldn't see the other side of this hole, though. It was at least ten feet wide, but rather shallow. It must have been made of more than one crater, he thought... Then, he saw a shape, a form of a man infront of him, in the same hole. He couldn't tell who it was, or of which side it belonged to... The head was up against the side of the hole, making it impossible to see the helmet, if one was worn, because of the contrasting bright orange sky.

"Who's there?" He called. He thought of the code his battalion had, for just a situation as this. "To Hell and back and we?"

No answer...

'Love it, we ride it.' He thought. His heart pounded in his chest.

Jedam's silent meditation -- if you could call it that -- was interrupted by a voice from his right.

"Say, Jedam, " a Gerudo said. His name was Retsel, a man whom Jedam had only met an hour before while scrambling into the trench. "How long do you think this... this war... will go on for?"

He answered with silence.

"I myself, " Retsel continued, seemingly speaking to nobody. "I believe in the Hero, the one who brought peace back to Hyrule all those years ago."

"Shut up, " came another voice. "That 'Hero' you speak of is only a myth, a fairy tale told to relieve children from this hell we face."

"Don't worry... I believe the Hero will one day save me... save us all, from this war."

Restrel's potential rambling was interrupted by a short cease of explosions. With that a battlecry cut through the air, and the Gerudos were trampling over the edge of their trench. Jedam ran alongside Retsel, his sword drawn. His shield remained set on his back; it would serve no purpose against these new weapons of war.

As fast as it had let up, the rain of metal had began once again. Gerudos fell left and right, their bodies being torn apart. Hopefully, Jedam thought, this type of warfare would be seen inferior to what his people had grown accustomed to, and their advantage would be restored.

It was futile to dream, though.

"Jedam, over there! A trench!" yelled Retsel over the commotion.

As Retsel neared toward his temporary salvation, an explosion occupied the ground several feet away from him. As he left the bodily world, Jedam scrambled past him, diving forward toward the trench. The death of that one made no difference, it was a simple reality of war.

There had been no hero to save him.

As he hit the ground of the trench, the cold sand welcomed his scorched and cut face. He lay there for what felt like minutes... or hours, was it? A commotion erupted above, and the sound of a clambering suit of metal emitted through the small trench.

"Who's there? To Hell and back and we?"

He answered with silence, just as he'd done to the late Retsel. The voice carried an accent with it, one which was unfamiliar to him. An enemy? It had to be. He'd be able to tell a Gerudo from any other race without problem.

Jedam stalked forward, his blade raised and ready to fight. As soon as his fears were confirmed, he dashed forward, unhesitant to cut down whatever stood before him.

Meathos watched the man creep steadily towards him... The man had his weapon drawn, and it was not of Hylian design. Meathos dove forward without thinking, taking the man out at the hip with his shoulder, and driving him into the ground. He leaned back and slammed the Gerudo into the hard ground a second time, and then punched him across the face once before recieving the butt of the enemy's swordhilt across the helmet.

Meathos fell off the man, and scrambled for his sword... Then, his vision changed. He no longer saw the man he was fighting, but another man, yet a Gerudo all the same. One name came to mind- Halse.

He snapped to, and roled to his left. The Gerudo's sword had barely grazed him.

"Halse!"

His enemy stiffened up, and almost stumbled back. Meathos said the name again, and again had to dodge another sword.

"That's you, right? Halse?" Meathos got to his feet, and then ducked from another swing. "Stop swinging that bloody thing, or we'll both die! We need to help eachother. You have to remember. I remember you!" Another swing was dodged.

Meathos looked through blurry goggles and sand-filled air at the blurry face before him... Then, out of the orange air came two more figures, with square helmets. One hopped down into the hole, and a second later, after a thud, the Gerudo was on the ground, unconcious. Meathos then found his vision blurring as he looked at the calm face of his enemy.

When they awoke, they found themselves on the cold, stone floor of Kakariko... They were imprisoned for treason against the General Gano. That is all they knew... All they still know more than a week later.


	3. Shadow Walker

Gnisal stood at the entrance to the Hyrule Inn, well aware that he was being followed. At least two members of the Sheikah Service were tailing him, and doing an excellent job at that. Gnisal's eyes scanned the nearby alleyway, looking for a clean exit point. Pulling the dull brown cloak that he had scavenged from the junk pile closer, masking his already masked face, the Rogue Sheikah gambled and moved swiftly into the alleyway. All he needed was a shadow…

Kriska and Tal were hot on _Zero's _tail, silently questioning whether or not they had the skill to take down the Perfect Killer. Legend of Gnisal's unerring killings earned him the title, "Zero". Ever since he was a boy, a boy that Kriska had grown up with, Gnisal had been…gifted. Shadows seemed to move for him, and move him in turn. His demeanor was so detached that many Sheikah didn't even recognize him as one of their brothers. He was something foreign, a tool more than a person. Kriska put his doubts aside. He had to appear calm in front of Tal, who was on his first field assignment. The novice had yet to earn a Kill Stripe, a symbolic strip of leather the Sheikahs hung on their garments upon killing a target. Carefully rounding one last corner, the two policemen spied their target.

_I'm being followed. There are two targets at the entrance to the alleyway. Judging by breathing variations, one is a veteran, used to the beat, and one is a novice, fresh from training._ Gnisal began calculating the variations that won and lost a battle. _Possibility of being flanked: 25 percent. Possibility of entrapment: 5 percent. Chance of victory in armed struggle: estimated 89 percent. Chance of escape: estimated 95 percent._ Satisfied, Gnisal found himself a suitable shadow to hide in and took off the outer cloak that had been hiding his true form. Dozens of thin leather strips hung from the shoulders of his black Sheikah Service jumpsuit.

Kriska and Tal lost sight of Gnisal. "Damn it!" Kiska shouted, running into the alleyway, dagger drawn. "He got away…" Tal stepped forward, confused. "How? He was right there." Before anyone could react, a hooked dagger erupted through Tal's chest. _Estimated chance of victory: 94 percent. _Suddenly appearing behind Tal, Gnisal had plunged his Makhaira into the Sheikah's heart. Gnisal slid the shaking assassin off his blade, wiping it clean on his black jumpsuit. Tal shook a few times on the ground, before finally ceasing all movement. Kriska drew a second dagger, watching Gnisal mirror his move. "You didn't have to kill the trainee, Zero." Kriska said, sliding into a defensive stance. "He was terrified of the thought of facing you. If you had moved in front of him, he would have probably turned and ran." Gnisal transitioned into his Shadow Stance, holding the blade in his right hand with a reversed grip. He scanned the ground, looking for an appropriate entry point. On the other side of the alleyway, Kriska secretly prepared his trump card.

Gnisal dove, unexpectedly, into the shadow formed by Tal's inert body on the ground. Disappearing, the Rogue Sheikah apparently left the alleyway. Caught moderately by surprise, Kriska placed his trump card, the lit candle, on the ground before him. Instantly, the shadows around him faded to nothing. Taking the special dart the Elder Sheikahs had given him, Kriska took aim at the only shadow left available to Gnisal: the one next to Tal's corpse. A few seconds passed.

Suddenly, the dark, smoking form of Gnisal emerged from the shadow, Makhaira whirling. He barely had time to look around at Kriska before the Sheikah threw the dart. _Estimated Chance of Dodging_...

Darkness….

Cold. The floor was damp, soggy, and stank from too many inhabitants and not enough cleaning. Gnisal tried as best he could to wriggle out of the custom straitjacket the other Sheikah had crafted for him. _Estimated Chance of Escape: 10 percent._ He had been in Kakariko for almost a month now, and was awaiting the Service to decide whether to pick him up or kill him. They apparently planned to "reeducate him" in the Service's doctrines. That is, you should kill women, children, and defenseless civilians if they disagree with the glorious leader, General Gano. Still, others in the Service felt that Gnisal's rampage had gone long enough, and that he should be put down like a racehorse that has run its race. One botched assignment had brought Gnisal to the light. Now one botched attack will drag him back down to darkness.

The room was dominated by one candle set dead in the middle of the floor. Not even in the furthest corners was there a shadow for Gnisal to jump into. Ever since he was a child, Gnisal found he could walk through shadows. So long as he could see his destination, the Sheikah could step into one shadow and walk out another. However, being chained and straitjacketed to the wall was a problem on its own, never mind the lack of shadows.

The door opened. Gnisal tensed. Was it the service, ready to claim him? Unsure of what he'd do, Gnisal resigned himself to his fate and closed his eyes. Minutes passed. Opening them finally, the Sheikah spied two figures lying on the ground. One was a Hylian soldier, judging by the physique and facial appearance. The other was a Gerudo. An enemy. Gnisal reflected on that term for a while. _Enemy_. For as long as he could remember, his enemies were supposed to try to kill him. However, this Gerudo was in the same situation he was in. Gnisal's mind went back to that red-letter day, so many months ago. Once again, he saw himself looking at that small child, intent on killing it. Again he saw himself stay his hand. This Gerudo might prove…useful. _Estimated Chance of Escape: 40 percent._ Gnisal's fortunes had improved. These two held the key to his…_their_ escape. As the two men slowly came to their senses, Gnisal spoke. "Who are you?"


	4. Many Gatherings

Ayame and five other Gerudos stood with their backs against the rocks of the desert. Behind them, was the great Hylian military. The Gerudos were thieves, and their best weapons being the swords and spears they held in their hands. But this didn't bother Ayame's group. The Gerudos had found Ayame, but being there was a war going on, everyone ignored her past, pretending the murder never happened. They needed her skills, and would punish her after the war was over. If it ever ended. Her group had their hoods up, and masks covering their noses and mouths, dressed all in black. A male Gerudo named Naoto quickly looked behind the rock and turned back. He nodded to his group. The six of them nodded back, and kneeled down low to the ground. Naoto put one finger up…two…three. In an instant, the six of them ran across the desert sand, like swift floating shadows.

Ayame saw ahead of her, a helmet. She focused on it, until she saw the shine of sweaty flesh. Still running, she reached into her cloak and grabbed a hold of two daggers, one in each hand. Before the unsuspecting Hylian could react, she whipped the daggers out and threw one into the Hylians neck. The Hylian gargled in his own blood as Ayame ran past, taking her dagger back. She threw the next dagger into a Hylian's eye, running past and taking that one back as well. She jumped into a trench, throwing her daggers at every Hylian she saw. Some of her daggers bounced off their helmets, but most managed to hit their targets. Seeing that this group was heavily armored, she pulled out her Chisa-katana and started deflecting arrows that were being shot at her. She didn't scream or talk…she didn't make a sound. She remembered what she was taught. The less noise you make, the less amount of enemies who know where you are. She executed about ten Hylians, and then jumped out of the trench. She ran towards another trench, which was full of rotting corpses. She jumped into it and ducked down. This is where they were supposed to go…but where was everyone? She thought for sure she had moved too slowly and that everyone was going to meet her here. Perhaps they had gone ahead? But where? Ayame refused to panic. She ripped off a piece of cloth from one of the corpses beside her, and wiped the disgusting Hylian blood off of her sword and daggers.

Suddenly, a cloaked Gerudo fell into the trench. He landed face down, his back covered in blood. Ayame crawled to him, and turned the fallen Gerudo over. It was Naoto. Ayame leaned in close to his ear and whispered to him "Naoto, what happened? Where are the others?" "Gone Ayame…" Ayame gave a short gasp. Her heart stopped beating for a moment. How was it possible? They had trained so hard, they were the best! How had they been defeated? "Run Ayame, or the Hylians will find you and they will kill you." "Run Ayame. Because the Gerudo will find you, and they will kill you." With that, his eyes rolled back and he went limp. Ayame let go of him and leaned back against the wall of the trench. "Run…" Always running away. Her mind went blank. She held onto his hand.

"You there! Get up!" A Hylian soldier stood by the trench, and held the tip of his sword at her head. She stood up, not turning to face him. Two soldiers jumped in to grab her. She wasn't going to run. She lifted her head a little, and saw two soldiers examining Naoto's body. The silence had ended. "Leave him alone!" she shouted and charged at the soldiers. She slit their throats and as she went to grab Naoto's body, three other Hylian soldiers grabbed her. Then she felt something heavy hit the back of her head. She felt her own blood trickle down her head and neck. Everything became blurry, and then darkness.

* * *

Sirithe lay on his "bed" in the trench. Technically he wasn't on the front, but rather a trench some yards behind the front trench, for the front soldiers to sleep in, and it wasn't a bed but a pile of sand he built up. He had his armor nearby ready to jump in if the front got pushed back.

It seemed doubtful, it had been a dead stalemate here since he arrived here with his squadron, the Wolfpack. His sword and shield lay near his armor. He loved the design on his shield, a wolf's head with an inverted Triforce in it's mouth.

He clenched his teeth and rolled over trying to block out the non-stop sound of Gerudo artillery landing. First day here three of his squad were killed by the shrapnel that were formed when the large pieces of metal hit the ground.

Giving sleep up as a lost cause he sat up and loosened his tunic. He slipped it off and threw it in the corner. He stood there in his undershirt and pants and grabbed his armor. He put on the chest piece, and the legs. He slid the arm guards on and then his gloves.

Last he put on his helmet, attached his sword and sheath to his left hip, hoisted his shield on his left arm and headed toward the front trench. He kept his head low, ready to dive if any shrapnel or anything else came his way.

He made it to the front trench without incident and slid into it. Right now was a rare quiet point in there, no Gerudo charging it, and no Hylians charging the Gerudo. He looked around and saw his friend Breed, he walked over to him and waved.

Getting within hearing range he muttered "What's going on, when's our next worthless charge?"

"Better watch the way you talk Sirithe, someone may turn you in for lesser treason, I'd hate to see you in Kakariko." Breed replied.

"Point taken, but right now all I meant was every little bit we get on a charge we lose later when they charge." Sirithe said.

"I suppose you're right, but still be careful. Anyways, we're due to charge within a few minutes, why are you up here, weren't you supposed to be sleeping?" Breed said, then inquired.

"With all this fun happening who can sleep?" Sirithe sarcastically asked.

He saw Breed grin and nod before he heard the horn that meant to charge. Unsheathing his sword he ran out of the trench, weaving his way to the nearest Gerudo trench.

He lost sight of Breed when a large piece of shrapnel came near them, he wasn't sure how, but he knew Breed was dead. He made it to the trench a few minutes later and jumped in.

It was a small trench, but nonetheless had two Gerudo in it. He swung towards one as he jumped and saw him fall, the odds were even now. The remaining Gerudo swung at him, and Sirithe raised his shield in a position to parry.

There was a loud clang of metal on metal as the sword collided with the shield. He made a retaliatory slice but to no avail, the Gerudo jumped back out of harm's way.

Sirithe didn't give the Gerudo a chance to retailiate but stabbed out at him. He was rewarded with a grunt and saw blood pouring from a wound in the Gerudo's stomach. The Gerudo went down and Sirithe let loose a sigh of relief.

That sigh was premature as he felt a sharp pain in his left shoulder. Had his shield not been attached to his armor it would have dropped to the sand floor.

He whirled around and saw the Gerudo he thought he had killed behind him, and a dagger in the side of his left shoulder.

He swung his sword at the Gerudo and was rewarded with the sight of the Gerudo's head rolling along in the sand, leaving a trail of blood.

He climbed out of the trench and began his way back to the Hylian trenches to get patched up. He walked on a weavy line, weavy this time because he was in pain and struggling to remain conscious.

He saw the trench and dropped in calling for a medic. One came to him almost immediately, and took off his shoulder armor. He pulled the dagger out and Sirithe barely kept from screaming through the pain, this stupid war, caused by the stupidness of the "government" had now injured both his shoulders, and lost him his best friend.

The medic sent him back to the rest trench, telling him he would be fine in a few days. Sirithe didn't care, he just wanted this hellish day to be over...

* * *

Albert was trapped in a cellar of a noble's manor. He had discovered that he exsists 300 years past his time. He wondered how he could still be in top physical condition, but he decided he would figure that out later. For now, he had to get out of this cell, find his equipment, and leave.

He looked around the room he was in. It wasn't a comfortable room; then again, the last thing on the noble's mind is his prisoner's comfort. The door had been barred shut with a 2x4 from the outside, and 2 guards were stationed outside of that. There wasn't any windows, but judging by the stillness outside, it was night. Graveyard hour, Albert thought to himself. Perfect.

He decided now was a good time to leave. He looked at the door, and he charged at it, stopping before ramming it to turn around and fling his butt into the door, a technique he likes to call "The Flying Anus". The 2x4 snapped outside, and the door with it. The guards were on the alert, ready to aprehend him, but Albert, being a more seasoned fighter, beat them into submission.

After flinging the guards into the room, Albert began searching for his equipment. He didn't want to bring too much attention to himself, but luckily he was wearing his black clothes. Using the shadows as cover, Albert tried finding a way out of the cellar.

After searching for a few minutes, he grew tired, but he didn't give up. He eventually found the staircase that lead upstairs. he ventured into the Grand Hall; It was decorated with Gold and Crimson Color, complete with a marble staircase and a portrait of the noble's ancestor.

Albert began climbing the stairs, and found himself right outside the noble's bedroom. He was wondering why there weren't any guards waiting for him in the hall. For good measure, he found a logger's axe shaft that could be used as a combat staff. He entered the noble's room.

The room wasn't much different from the grand hall; gold and crimson everywhere. He noticed a big heap of something lying on the bed. He crept closer to find out it was the noble himself. He looked much fatter than his decendant, and very much out of shape. He could not supress his laughter watching his belly rise up and down.

When the man awoke, he fell out of the bed, and began calling the guards, but there were no guards that came. So, he decided, as a noble, he'll handle it himself. He grabbed a knife from his dresser, and the 2 combatants began to spar.

The fatter man lunged at Albert, who sucessfully parried the attack and cleverly swung the staff square in the gutt of the man. He fell over, but quickly got up, madder than ever. He began fighting wildly, and Albert had no choice but to block. They eventually made way to the balcony 2 stories off the ground.

The man used his belly to push Albert back, until Albert was at the edge of the balcony, touching the railing. The noble laughed hysterically, and thrust downward at Albert's unprotected shoulder. He ducked, sending the man toppling forward, and putting him at the edge of the balcony. Albert had one shot. He ran forward, and flung his butt at the man. The impact caused the railing to give, sending the fat noble falling to the ground. He landed with a muffled thud, groaning a few seconds later.

Albert, satisfied with his work, ran back to the room. He found over his bed 2 swords. They weren't the swords he was familiar with, but he took them anyway. Engraved on them were: "Grayswandir-Alvein" and "Fenrir-Alvein". He could not believe his eyes; these were his family's most prized weapons!

He quietly snuck out through the front, and sucessfully escaped, only having to deal with one lone guard. He looked at the wreckage he caused. This is one night that fat noble will never forget, Albert thought. Maybe he should exercise more. Turning, and chuckling under his breath, he strode into the nightlife.


	5. Lamentations

He was once again in the desert... Sitting in a trench, the sky was clear, free from storms, he could see their Fortress... Immense. How they'd ever take it... But, he'd been there before. He peered over the top, and surveyed the barbed 'no-man's land' between his OT line, and the enemy.

They'd been told that they had pitfalls, barbed wire, observers, even things called 'mines'- Unstable bombs buried underground. When pressure is applied from above, they explode in a fury of fire and shrapnel. They had to cross all of those obstacles before they could even think about getting to the Fortress...

But, he'd been here before. He stood, now, and looked around the glowing landscape. Then, he heard it... 'Thwack!', seconds later, the heavy exploding shells, with their shrapnel ringing across the desert. He dropped down immediately, and scrambled to a dugout.

Why had he volunteered? He looked at the badge on his left bracer and pauldron. He was still only a Corporal. An eagre Corporal who'd volunteered for the Observation Trench duty that day. Why? He wanted to be promoted, or injured, and on his way out. What he got was a ticked to Sergeant, and he was stuck with a squad who had been on leave on the rear line...

He was suddenly on the Overwall, looking out at a more distant Fortress. His second tour on the Front... He could feel his mind slipping.

"Sergeant!" a Private called to him. Meathos turned, and saw the young man's face. "Captain wants to see you, Sir."

Meathos nodded, and walked to the Captain, his double-barred insignia glowing in the hot sun. The Captain wasn't a large man, physically, but he demanded respect nonetheless. He wasn't a cruel man by any means, but he was strict.

"Sergeant, I know you're drawn thin. I would be, myself... But, we're sending your squad out first. A harbinger of sorts. Just go out there, find out where they're headed, what they've got, or whatever you can, and come back. We'll send the assault if you need it on the way back, you know the signal."

"And if I don't give it?"

"We wait for you to return. We can't send out the battalion without proper intel about what they'd be fighting against."

Meathos nodded, saluted, and walked back to his squad. His eyes were squinted by the bright sun in the clear sky...

He lay in a shell hole, surrounded by bodies and body parts. He knew not if the shelling or attack were over, because he still heard the bombs... He turned, looked out of the hole, and saw the Fortress, a ways off. Suddenly, sand began to blow from behind it, and across the desert. Within minutes, the entire battlefield was one massive sand storm. He was stranded. His squad was dead. Why had he volunteered? If he could only go back...

He waited in the hole for a night, drinking the water he found on the dead. He often talked to his strewn squadmates, the dead Gerudo: He knew they were the same. He knew that neither of them wanted to kill another man, but they had to. They had to kill, because it was their job.

If given another chance, he would do things differently.

He promised them all that he would do them differently from that day on. He would not draw his sword and attack another man, unless it was in self defence. He promised he would never kill another man, but instead, he would kill uniforms. All uniforms that stood against brotherhood and alliances.

Soldiers, no matter what uniform they wear, are a brotherhood. They are forced to kill, and none of them like it. He promised all of them.

"I'm sorry comrades, I did not know what I had agreed to. At first, you were an ideal. 'The enemy'. Now, i see you are exactly like us, men, with families, dying and killing in the name of land. If we were all to seek refuge within this shell hole again, I would start a fire and make us a soup with my helmet, if you would all be civilized, aswell... We are all brothers in a way, and I will preserve that. Anyone who stands in the way of brotherhood shall die. I will make sure of that."

In the morning, he ran in a straight line, and reached the Hylians. He was recieved with immediate leave, and a battalion transfer. He was a Hellrider from that day forth.

Why had he volunteered? The guns still raged in his mind...

He awoke in his pitiful cell, surrounded by a Gerudo and a Shiekah...


	6. Breakout

Pain and darkness. Sensations Gnisal was becoming familiar with. Pulling himself together, the Sheikah shook the last fading shadows from his eyes, dimly aware of the throbbing pain in his hand. Much to his disappointment, but not to his surprise, Gnisal was still in his candlelit cell. Meathos, the Hellrider, was there as well, lying down on the floor several feet away. It had been almost a week since the guards threw in the "traitor" and the Gerudo, Jedam. Straining in his strait jacket, Gnisal looked around the brightly lit cell, trying to find the familiar clump of dirty rags that bore the name Jedam. He saw nothing but the sleeping Hylian and the ever present light from the candle.

The door to the cell suddenly swung open. Before Gnisal or the newly awakened Meathos could react, strong hands tossed Jedam onto the floor in front of them. The door slammed shut, leaving the room in silence, save for the labored, raspy breathing of Jedam. Clutching his right shoulder, Jedam rolled up his tattered sleeve, revealing the numbers '337' branded into his arm.

Meathos looked on, left hand subconsciously finding his right hand, finding his own brand there. '33' was inscribed in the flesh, burnt there by so many pieces of hot iron. Gnisal looked down at his strait jacket, remembering his own experience with the irons, remembering his number: 13.

"Heh, I didn't know we had so many of your guys in here..." Meathos growled. He balled his right hand, crushing the numbers burned into the palm of his hand. He looked to his left, and saw the same number branded into the front of his other hand. Between his thumb and forefinger, in clear visibility, his curse lay smoldering.

Jedam simply smirked and breathed hard. "We have three times the

number of you Hylians back in the Fortress... Well, I'm not sure if we've killed them yet."

Gnisal sat quiet in a corner, smirking slightly at the tension between the two men. Meathos shrugged, and slid up against the wall. He stared into the candle as the flame danced gently... Then, it flickered. Curious, Meathos stood to look out of their small barred window. He didn't see much, but he heard the bombs, still drumming in his head.

"Are you guys hearing that, too?" Jedam asked. "Sounds like the Front..."

Meathos' ears perked. He turned quickly, and stared at Jedam with wide eyes. "Why, yes, Gerudo. I do..."

A guard appeared outside their barred door, lantern in hand, keys in the other. "Oi, get comfortable, you three. Lockdown time." The guard reassured himself by locking their door a second time, and then walked off. His footsteps echoed in the dark hallway, followed by a deafening detonation. When the smoke cleared, Jedam was on the ground in a heap, hands over his head. Meathos lowered his forearms from in front of his face, and Gnisal was standing: the candle had been blown out, just as their door had.

The three looked at each other ecstatically, but then heard someone running down the hall. Three guards appeared, weapons drawn.

Meathos and Jedam stood at the blown out gate, Gnisal crouching behind them in the shadows...

"Oh, no, sirs, we would never dream of walking out on you fine fellows." Jedam said sarcastically.

"We just love your company, boys." Meathos winked, thinking of the share of women he'd been with in the Army, as if to cleanse himself.

Gnisal hissed a signal, and the two men stepped backwards, letting the light from their small window land on their backs, and further drench the cell in darkness.

Gnisal silently thanked the Hellrider and the Gerudo as he slowly fell forward towards the ground. Instead of landing flat on his face, the Sheikah melted into the shadows of his human wall, leaving only the strait jacket, the only thing that had ever managed to hold him.

Meathos and Jedam continued to step backwards, eventually passing over the barren jacket. The three guards stood, puzzled at the mystery. They had been sent to secure three prisoners, not two.

As the three hapless soldiers stood there and puzzled over the missing prisoner, they never noticed that the moonlight from the window across from them cast their own shadows behind them. They also failed to notice the black clad monster appear behind them, emerging in a puff of smoke.

The first guard might have had a chance, if Gnisal hadn't snapped his neck.

The two remaining guards reacted, but not in the right direction. Turning to attack Gnisal, they forgot about the "weak prisoners" they had been sent to collect. With a roar, Meathos tackled one of the guards from behind, knocking him to the ground. Jedam pulled the other guard aside, using one hand to pin the guard's sword hand, and the other to choke him.

Meathos and his quarry wrestled around for a few moments, but Meathos soon won the upper hand. Pinning the guard to the ground, Meathos proceeded to pummel his foe in the face with his bare fists.

Screaming in a language that neither Gnisal nor Jedam could recognize, Meathos bloodied his hands with his opponent's face. Come to think of it, Meathos couldn't recognize the language he was screaming in, either.

Jedam removed his foe in a more complacent fashion, to say the least. Sword pinned to his side, the guard was forced to drop it in order to bring his hand up to his throat. The powerful Gerudo won out, nonetheless. Nearly blacking out, the guard fell to the ground. Finished with his mangled target, Meathos kicked the unconscious guard in the face.

As the toe of Meathos' boot collided with the unconscious guard's cranium, Jedam dashed into the hallway to confirm there were no more 'visitors'. He was met with silence; not a single footstep echoed in the empty hallway ahead. The Gerudo started out the door and, looking back over his shoulder, saw Gnisal and Meathos glance doubtedly at each other.

It only lasted as long as a glance, though.

The two Hylians and the Gerudo sprinted through the hall, catching glances and hearing angered screams from other men -- Hylian and Gerudo alike -- still holed up in their own cells. There would be no time to stop for them: they were of little importance in the list of priorities which the three were at the top of.

As they made their way through the winding hallways, another thought was brought to the front of Jedam's mind... a thought which had stuck in his head since they were thrown into that damn prison.

'Halse, ' he whispered in his mind. 'My ancestor... a name that even the ones who honor me remember. How did this Hylian... this enemy...'

"I'll make sure to ask him once we're out of this hell, " he chuckled to himself.

As the three turned the final bend, noises which Jedam had thought he was imagining became more obtrusive to his ears. Explosions, screams and the clanging of metal resounded and echoed in the otherwise silent hallway.

Without warning the wooden door ahead of them exploded, a flying body being its cause. The newcomer Gerudo lay on the ground, blood pouring out of wounds the arrows protruding from his chest had made.

Jedam could have sworn he noticed slight grins on his companions' faces; whether it was the sight of a dead Gerudo, or the prospect of ensuing chaos... he did not know.

The three escapees made their way through the twisting, endless corridors of Kakariko prison, narrowly missing frantic guards and soldiers intent on keeping the peace. The sounds of a battle were distinct now, as obvious as the chatter of birds on a quiet summer day. Meathos, Gnisal and Jedam quickly and quietly slipped through the fortress, eagerly awaiting that one door to freedom.

Estimated Chance of Escape : 60...65... As each door opened, the numbers climbed in Gnisal's head. Eventually, the three would find one of two special doors. The door to salvation, or the door to security. As luck would have it, the three found the door to security first.

Jedam was the first one in. Charging quickly, the Gerudo stormed the only guard in the room. A quick haymaker to the jaw left the guard unconscious. Gnisal entered the room second, drifting silently towards the far corner, intrigued by what he saw there. Meathos entered last, closing the door behind him and keeping guard.

In front of Gnisal was an exquisite blade of obviously Gerudo origin. The sword hilt was embossed with ancient runes that looked like the Gerudo language, but were older and more archaic than anything Gnisal had ever been briefed on. The grip itself was made of some sort of animal skin that Gnisal was unfamiliar with. Giving the sword a few practice swings, the Sheikah found it a bit uncomfortably heavy for him to heft. Perhaps Meathos…

"Hey!" Jedam shouted, standing over the inert guard, "That's mine!"

Gnisal looked at the Gerudo. "Is that so…Well, I guess this weapon doesn't suit me anyway. Hellrider! Take this sword." Meathos turned around, looked the blade over, and looked at Jedam. "Give the Gerudo his blade. I'm sure he won't turn on us…"

"I'm right here, you know…." Jedam said, obviously irritated. "And if it makes you feel any better, I found these on the guard." Jedam tossed a pair of small scabbards at Gnisal. Inside them, he found his Makhaira. Gnisal looked at Meathos. "Well, it seems you still need a blade." Meathos shrugged. "I'll make do with what I find, Sheikah."

"Call me Gnisal, Hellrider." Gnisal said, strapping on his blades.

"Meathos, not 'Hellrider' " Meathos retorted. "I'm not part of that unit anymore…"

"Well, it's nice we are all on a first name basis now. Shall we?" Gnisal said loftily, opening the door. Meathos nodded, following the Sheikah.

"Damn Hylians…" Jedam whispered, walking out last.

13, 33, and 337 continued through Kakariko's corridors, following the sounds of battle. Finally, the three reached one last door, a mighty oaken wonder eight feet high.

"This must be it," Jedam said.

"Yes, this is the door to the courtyard," Meathos replied.

The Hylian pressed his hand against the door, and opened the way into hell.

Meathos opened the door, and poked his head into the immense chaotic massacre that was raging beyond it. He looked for a few seconds, then quickly slammed the portal, putting his back to it. He closed his eyes, running what he had just seen through his mind… Meathos breathed heavily, opened his eyes and looked at the two men in front of him.

"Stay here."

The door slid opened, and Meathos slipped out, entering the brutal fire-pit beyond. He moved quickly, but as usual, he did not know where to. His mind raced and scrambled to gain a grasp as to what was happening, but his body moved on its own. Everything was bathed in red and orange.

The large courtyard had spots of fire and dead scattered. Most of the prisoners who had escaped a few minutes before himself were huddled under overhangs, climbing up walls, killing the guards they hated the most. The guards were on the walls, doing what they could to stop the rioting victims of Justice.

Meathos found himself pressed against a wall as a group of roughly twenty-five guards jogged past, towards the horde of escapees. They immediately started cutting the prisoners down, occasionally entering fist-fights or wrestling with them. One guard was ripped limb-from-limb by a Goron.

More bombs fell. Meathos had learned to dodge them rather well on the front, and he put the skill to work in Kakariko. He watched the night sky, and traced the dark orbs on their way in, and hit the ground when they landed.

Meathos found himself on the ground, covering his head and listening to the howls and screams of the fray that had just been hit by a shell. All of Kakariko was now burning and crumbling, as far as he could see. The courtyard was lit up as though it were noon, but the sky was dark with stars and smoke. Above the buildings hung a glow and a crown of flames…

Meathos Alregdia rose to a knee, and surveyed some more. He tried to remember what his battalion's next orders were, but failed miserably… 'Where did that bloody Major say we were headed to?'

Suddenly, Kakariko's heavily reinforced gates were pushed slowly open. They were aflame, as was the dead and dry grass around them. Meathos looked into the gates of Hell, and saw those who ride the dark realm.

His battalion marched in, officers on horseback. They strode through the fire, the flames, not caring. Their eyes were fixed on the courtyard, surveying every chaotic aspect of it.

The former Hellrider threw himself towards a wall, and peered behind it. Slowly, surely, the Hellriders marched on. They had no shields, no fear. Their horses were calm, their soldiers hummed melodic hymns and laughed amongst each other. Meathos missed them all…

The battalion reached the centre courtyard, spread out, and let loose. Everyone not in uniform was being cut down… Meathos caught the attention of the Captain he had, before, on the front. The man confidently walked over, sword held high. Upon recognizing his former soldier, the man's confidence disintegrated, and morphed into a sort of remorse…

"Captain. Nice to see you, Sir."

"Aye, Sergeant. I'm sorry it has to be this way…" The man raised his weapon, Meathos stood firm and accepting.

"Do what you must."

A swing. A dodge. A snap.

Meathos had absolutely no idea what he had done. Perhaps he was dead? Perhaps. One thing he was certain of, however, the Captain was dead.

"Promotion accepted, Sir."

The door swung open, and Gnisal and Jedam took defensive stance. Jedam held his weapon to the Hellrider's throat.

"Nice to see you, too, Gerudo."

Gnisal looked at Meathos up and down as Jedam sheathed his weapon. "Captain, are we?"

Meathos nodded.

"How'd you do that?"

"…I don't know."

Jedam, Gnisal and Meathos took a split second to survey their surroundings, it being all they could afford. Their weapons drawn, the three men rushed forward in a frenzy, catching steel against their own and looking frantically for the gate to leave Kakariko -- their gate out of hell.

Apparently not taking much notice of the two Hylians breaking away to oppose their own attackers, a guard armed with a longsword rushed towards Jedam. Obviously in a panic, he took several wild swings as the Gerudo simply back stepped to avoid them. Jedam was upon the guard the moment he dropped his guard out of fatigue. His blade came down, snapping the Hylian's collarbone and ripping into his torso

As the rain of explosions and arrows commenced once more, the Gerudo ducked behind a corner to gain a momentary peace. He spotted Meathos among the fray, the Hylian's blade swinging and taking off a man's head. To the left of Meathos was Gnisal, his blades whirling in a fury in response to another soldier. As Gnisal's opponent fell, he jerked his head to a scream and took off in that direction.

A Hylian child stood among the fray, tears pouring out of his eyes. His clothing -- rags, rather -- signified that he was a prisoner... most likely a family member of ones subjected to 'treason'. Several feet away a Goron with an expression of pure madness on his face began a charge for the screaming child. Gnisal, whose mind was set on making it to the child, had the wind knocked out of him as a soldier rammed his shoulder into the Sheikah.

"Damn, " he exclaimed under his breath.

Not waiting to watch the outcome from his place, Jedam charged from his spot, racing the deranged Goron to the Hylian boy. The Gerudo's legs, used to trudging in deep sand, got him to his location faster than the Goron's could. His blade came out in the most powerful swing he could muster, catching the towering Goron in the chest. It did little to him, though, and soon it had regained its composure and changed targets to Jedam.

The Gerudo braced himself and, as if it was a blessing from Nabooru herself, an explosive landed behind the Goron who now stood between it and Jedam. Pounds of shrapnel unloaded themselves into the Goron's tough back and knocked him forward.

As he laid there in the ground, Gnisal looked up at the Gerudo ten paces away. Illuminated in the firelight, the warrior brought his sword down on the skull of the rampaging Goron, and returned to the young boy's side. The Sheikah faked being dead for a few moments, eager to observe this new ally. The Gerudo moved quickly and efficiently, countering any threat posed to the child. When an attacker drew him away, Jedam returned at once.

Everything he had ever been taught, everything he knew about the Gerudo, was a lie. From birth he learned that they were a faceless, soulless, emotionless entity. Just like him… He was taught that they weren't real people, just tools for the slaughter. Just like him… But here was a Gerudo who risked everything to save a child. Just like him… Gnisal was speechless.

Gnisal slowly rose, almost feeling the makhaira slip out of his left hand, almost as it had done nearly four months ago. Gnisal charged at Jedam, his grip on the blades tightening. Jedam, dueling one of the guards, barely had time to look at Gnisal before the Sheikah threw the makhaira.

Even if he could have blocked the weapon, Jedam had another foe in front of him to deal with. A swift breeze, the sound of metal whirling through the air, and the swift thud of an impact was all Jedam heard.

He was alive.

Gnisal ran to Jedam and the boy, picking up the Makhaira that had embedded itself in the chest of the Hylian behind Jedam. The bastard had tried to sneak up on the Gerudo. Gnisal would have none of that. He was the only person here allowed to fight dirty. Wiping the blood off the blade, Gnisal assumed a defensive stance behind Jedam.

"I've got your back, Gerudo" Gnisal said, placing the child between them.

"Jedam, please." Jedam said, having finally felled his foe with a blow to the gut.

"You can call me Gnisal, Jedam." The Sheikah replied, steeling himself against a new wave of troops. It was going to be a long night.

Gnisal and Jedam stood, backs to one another, defending the boy. Gnisal pondered over the irony. Two rebels, defending a child yet again. Just like before. Hopefully, Gnisal thought, we will meet a better fate than the last two.

Tense minutes passed. Gnisal and Jedam relentlessly defended the child from any danger. A heap of bloodied bodies fell all around. Gnisal was busy engaging a burly Hylian, while Jedam found himself squaring off against two sword wielding foes. Seeing an opening, Gnisal slid beneath his target's feet, slashing his hamstrings as he went. Slipping into the crippled Hylian's shadow, Gnisal appeared behind one of Jedam's enemies. The Hylian on Jedam's left fell to the ground instantly, his Achilles tendons sliced. Shocked, the second Hylian missed Jedam's sword slipping into his chest. Wheeling about, Jedam decapitated the burly Hylian Gnisal had hamstringed. Grabbing the child, Gnisal and Jedam ran.

The two defenders finally caught up to Meathos. The former Hellrider had cut a bloodied, frenzied swath through his former comrades. Scores of men fell beneath his rampaging blade. Gnisal and Jedam kept their distance, until the Hylian calmed down.

Wiping sweat from his brow, Meathos said "Who's the kid?"

"Does it matter?" Jedam replied. Meathos shrugged.

"He's mine," a voice cried out. A ragged man, roughly fifty by Gnisal's estimate, emerged from the crowd. "Thank you, good sirs, for saving my grandson…" The boy seemed to relax, and walked over to the old man. Relieved of his duty, Gnisal relaxed as well.

Meathos noticed the shoulders of Gnisal drop as he exhaled. Jedam roughed the hair of the little boy, and shook the old man's hand. Meathos nodded, smirked, and shook the man's hand as well.

"It was nothing."

"Gnisal, look..." Jedam said over the raining Hell. "They're arming themselves."

The Prisoners had busted into the main prison building, and were coming out in small groups, clad in bits and pieces of armour. They were all carrying weapons... The Hellriders and the guards had no choice at that time. They began to heave small personal bombs into the mob, dispersing them, and then picking them off when they were alone. Eventually, they had barricaded the prisoners, whom the majority of were inside of the building, and started to take the heavy bombs off of the defense catapults, and put them inside and around the building.

"They're going to blow the place to Hell and back." Jedam said, and began to walk over to the soldiers. Meathos put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"And they'll love it."

"There's more prisoners in that building, still locked up and protected from the explosion than had escaped, Jedam. Let the Hylians kill themselves with victory."

13, 33, and 337 stood in a secluded corner of the courtyard, watching the industrious guards go to work. Lit bombs were thrown through windows, torches set to thatched buildings. However, the biggest carnage was wreaked upon the main building. Seven of the massive bombs, powder kegs, as they were called, were launched at the main prison building. Even at their distance, the three had to shield themselves from falling shrapnel and …pieces.

"Those bastards!" Gnisal shouted, drawing his blades. However, before he could take a step, he came to understand what Meathos had said. Even as the smoke cleared, the screams of the newly-freed prisoners echoed in Gnisal's ears. True, the Hylians had destroyed the weapons cache, but they had also inadvertently blasted open most of the building. The prisoners who weren't killed outright were now freed. The guards, who were facing bad odds to begin with, now faced dismal ones. Gnisal , Meathos, and Jedam watched as a wave of flesh erupted from the rubble, and simply passed over the vanguard of troops.

"Come on!" Meathos shouted, gesturing that the other two should follow him. The three took flight, following the massive riot to its primary objective: the main gate.

Hundreds of desperate men, women, and children rammed the main gate, rhythmically pushing it and each other in a terrible struggle to escape. Many were crushed under the feet of their fellow escapees. Above, dozens of guards fired hand bombs and arrows into the crowd, dropping targets and blowing massive holes in the formation. Staying alive was as simple as not getting wet in a rainstorm.

The trio were at the very front of the massive parade, using a dead Hylian as a shield, of sorts. Meathos had his right shoulder on the door, pushing with all of the strength he could find... He looked back, and saw the prisoners using the dead as shields, as well. Jedam simply laughed at that, and continued to push under the flurry of arrows and the bombs.

Soon, however, a bomb was dropped right near the door, some twenty feet from 13, 33 and 337. It blew a hole in the gate a good three meters across... Gnisal had an idea.

A bomb was dropped near them, and Gnisal immediately picked it up, and dropped it at the gate. Meathos threw a dead prisoner on top of the bomb, and pushed back through the crowd. Yet another portal revealed itself. Prisoners began to pour out of the gate, and make their ways up to the guards and soldiers on the wall. Within twenty minutes, Kakariko was calm, and all but fifty prisoners were dead, in pieces.


	7. Fighting in the Field

Sirithe sighed and leaned his head back against the side of the wagon. Sent back to Kakariko, and not because he kept talking out against General Gano, but in a caravan, to do "guard duty." More like he was an inconvenience with his injured arm on the front.

He gazed down at the Gerudo and wondered what was so different between him and her, other than the fact that they grew up in different societies, he didn't know who she fought, but he heard she killed him and was knocked out by a different Hylian. He didn't know how true that was, but oh well.

He rubbed his shoulder absentmindedly as he thought. This damned war was going the be the end of Hyrule, Gano wasn't going to know when to quit, and the Gerudo were just as good as the Hylians, all this could become was a waste of young lives.

He rotated his non-injured right shoulder to get some of the kinks out of it. How long was this damn ride going to be? The ride began to get a bit more rough, and the lantern in his hand shook slightly.

He stood up and looked outside, good, they were about halfway there, not too much longer now. He walked back to where he had been sitting. He closed his eyes and slipped into a sort of sleep, sort of awake state of mind.

He saw himself in the desert with Breed again, the two of them charging to fight for the glory of Hyrule, for the first, but not the last time together. They ran across the desert avoiding danger and jumped into a trench, the two of them fighting in tandem side by side.

Then suddenly it changed, Breed was struck down, but not by artillery, the way Sirithe knew he died, he could feel it nagging at him from the back of his mind. Then suddenly he was swarmed from the side.

He tried fighting, but couldn't do anything at all. The Gerudo surrounded him, but wait, they weren't all Gerudo, and they didn't appear hostile, on the contrary they were asking him if he was okay. Then the entire vision Sirithe called it for lack of a better word ended in a ball of fire.

He jumped to and looked around, then saw what happened, he dropped his lantern and it hit his leg and made a slight burn mark where it hit. He sighed again, he couldn't even sleep to pass the time.

Then he noticed that the bumps were starting to stir the Gerudo girl. He left her alone and watched her fidget around. That was when he noticed that she was looking at him. "She's awake sir" one of the others with him said.

"I injured my shoulder not my eyes soldier, I can still see." Sirithe snapped.

"Yes sir, sorry sir." The soldier murmured.

Sirithe just grunted and looked back at the Gerudo who seemed to be in pain. He walked close to her and kneeled down "Don't worry, we're almost to Kakariko."

The Gerudo made no response, but he saw that it scared and worried her. Trying to reassure her he said "You put up a hell of a fight."

The Gerudo glared at him and said "Obviously not enough."

Ayame turned her head away from him and smiled to herself. "don't worry" you say…heh…"don't worry! You're going to hell…" Ayame smirk faded away, her bangs fallen over her eyes. She didn't want to die in Kakariko. She wanted to kill herself in battle, not die rotting in a filthy cell.

She had no home and no friends. When she returned to Gerudo Valley, she discovered her mother died in the war. It was so like her mother to be fighting even as an older woman.

It was for Naoto. The one man she loved and respected. She wanted to protect him, protect his home, and his family. But he had died in her arms a couple of hours ago. She had no purpose anymore. As tear fell down her cheek, she sucked in air and held her breath, to keep from crying. She turned her head away from Sirithe even more.

She remembered being with her mother, with the other Gerudos. She would still be there with them, had she not saved that Hylian boy's life. How ironic, that she had saved a Hylian and now she killed them. What had made the boy so different? And now, why did this young Hylian care? He sounded so friendly for a guy who was keeping her prisoner.

Ayame struggled to reach the bottle of poison in her cloak…

"What the Hell!" screamed the one Hylian driving the wagon. Ayame's eyes widened and she lifted her head to see what was going on. Sirithe got up and went to the front of the wagon. With a bit of trouble, Ayame sat up to get a better look. "The prisoners…they must have…Ahh!" At that moment, a bomb had it the train of wagons. Ayame and a few others were thrown from the wagon.

Ayame rolled onto the grass and landed on her stomach. The grass felt so soft compared to the wood she had been laying on earlier. She opened her eyes, already sore to begin with. Only an inch away from her was a dead man laying in a pool of blood. She sat up quickly and realized her hands had become free. She reached down and untied her ankles. She stood up, stumbling a bit, and saw the wagon now in flames. She saw the young man who had talked to her laying on the grass a few feet from the wagon. She stumbled over to him, and gently picked him up. She dragged him farther from the wagon, and placed him in the shadows of a building, hoping he could recover before possibly getting hurt again. "Thank you for your kind words…" she whispered. She wished she hadn't snapped at him.

Seeing him there was somewhat of a revelation for her. She had been raised to hate Hylians, yet this man seemed like he was only doing his job, and taking the time to comfort her, even though she was the enemy. There were probably more Hylians like him, Hylians who hated this war as much as she did.

Suddenly, Ayame remembered. "Damn it! No!" She ran towards the burning wagon, and searched the wreckage, burning herself a bit. "Ah ha!" She picked up her sword, still safely tucked in its sheath. She was careful to grab it with the edge of her cloak. She backed away from the flames and whirled it around to cool it off. Once it was cool, she strapped it to her waist, and ran forward a few feet, ducking beside a building.

Kakariko was a mess. All kinds of people were running around, Hylian soldiers…prisoners. Who had done this? Suddenly, she spotted three dark figures fighting some Hylian soldiers. She leaned in closer to the wall, so as not to be seen. The enemies hardly had a time to react, they moved so quickly and skillfully. Were these the men who started this? Who were they? As they got closer to her, she noticed one was a Gerudo. Then she saw the other was a Hylian. Then it's true. What she had thought before was now here in full view. A Gerudo and a Hylian fighting side by side. She smiled to herslf, and pulled her hood over her head. For now, this would do as her purpose. She unsheathed her katana, and ran towards them.

She ran up behind an attacking Hylian soldier and sliced his head clean off. She was now closer to Gnisal, Meathos, and Jedam. "I'm here for you Gerudo!" she shouted, her cloak flying back, exposing the Gerudo tattoo on her upper right arm. She didn't care what happend now, she just wanted to die fighting.

Sirithe lay on the hard ground, with some minor bruises and burns covering his body. He stood up slowly and shook his head. Everything in the caravan was a burning wreck, as if a direct hit by a bomb. Kakariko stood in the distance with signs of a fight.

He looked around the former caravan, no sight of the Gerudo he was escorting, no sight of her weapons either. He then heard her yell "I'm here for you Gerudo!"

He looked for his sword in the sheath on his belt, it wasn't there, neither was the shield that made him part of the Wolfpack. He looked around, there it was, lying about ten feet away.

He walked over and picked up the two items. He looked more closely at the fight, which didn't seem to be as much of a fight anymore, there was a Hylians, a Sheikah, and counting the prisoner he was escorting two Gerudo.

He walked towards the wreckage at the gate, and looked around, there were more guards coming, but he had time to say something "You guys need a fifth helper? This war is over for me, I die with you, or I fight with you."

One of the Hylians, with a longsword that designated him as the Hellrider class looked at Sirithe and said "Wolfpack, eh? Yeah, we could use you."

As soon as that exchanged ended the guards were on them again.

* * *

From inside Jack's cell he could hear quite a comotion from up above. Smal explosions going off in numerous places in the prison, but it seemed that the fighting had not reached Solitary yet. Jack yelled in hopes that someone would hear him, but to no avail...then...

"Over here! Get these men out! They'll be a help! They're in solitary for a reason!" A man said through the noise of the battle.

A scrabling of men could be heard afterwards and soon the cell gates were being opened. Jack waited patiently and, soon enough, his door flew open. Jack Peace ran out with a new vigor, taking up a fallen guards weapon and looking for the nearest engagment.

Jack turned to see an explosion and as the dust settled he could see a group of five armed men. Jack inspected them closly and saw that one, perhaps the leader, was a Hellrider.

Without a word Jack jumped into the battle and slayed one guard. He then turned to the Hellrider and spoke,

"Room for one more?"


	8. This Way Up

The guards were on his tail that morning. They had discovered the noble's moaning body outside his estate, thinking that he had fallen from the weight pressed on the beams. He had awoken to tell them briefly that it was no accident, and that a man in black robes and a silver rose pin had knocked him out of the balcony.

Albert knew he would have precious time to escape the village. But even still, he could take his time. Knowing his own work, they would be too intimidated to do anything to him, especially armed. There were only 2 guards at the gate, both armed with spears and bows. They were obviously alerted of his late night rousing of the noble.

Albert took a good look at the guards. They had the typical hylian armor, but on their helmets was the symbol of the Triforce...upside down. He didn't get much of a better look after that, because one of the guards rushed at him, the other noching an arrow. Albert drew the Grayswandir and Fenrir, and decided it would be good to carry a disguise.

The guard that rushed him stumbled and landed on his head, nearly knocking him cold. Sighing, Albert kicked him in the head, knocking him out. The other began firing arrows like crazy, not even getting close to him. He rushed at the poorly trained archer, disarmed him, and kicked him in the ribs. The man doubled over as Albert took his quiver. He took his armor off of him, and put it in a rucksack he found in the cellar.

He fled the village, frantically looking for someone to help him. He wondered how the noble had come to aquire his family heirlooms, but set the tought aside when he approached a nearly destroyed caravan. Of those he saw were 2 Hylians, a Sheikah, and 2 Greudo (from his stand point), and about a dozen soldiers with the same insignia on their helmets.

"Hmm...more soldiers, eh?" Albert said to himself. "Sounds like fun."

He rushed into the fray, and killed 2 soldiers in the process. One of the warriors fighting the soldiers came up to him, after slaying a guard behind him.

"Mind if I help out?" Albert said.

"The more the merrier. You look like a seasoned fighter. The name's Meathos."

"...Meathos...strange, it sounds...familiar. But I digress. I am Albert."

The soldiers began fighting more viciously, thus ending more conversation with Meathos.

* * *

"I can't believe this is happening again..." A young girl sighed. "An entire century of peace gone down the tubes in a matter of a few measly years..." Sakura rose from her wooden deku throne that sat inside the shelter of a giant deku tree-house. She walked to the entrance and peered up into the canvas of the trees. The small patches of sun light shining down through the leaves hid the fact that a thin layer of the Great Deku Tree's own mana covered the village of Kokori, the Lost woods, and the Sacred Realm. This protective Mana sheltered the people and animals of these places from the harmful effects of the outside air.

Mido, Sakura's husband got up off of his chair and went over to her. "Savage pigs... First Kakariko, then Zora's Domain, now us..." Sakura's eyes narrowed, and she balls her fists. "I'll break down these damned walls. Even if I have to dig my way out--"

Her eyes lit up, and she looked out over the village. "That's it!" Mido shook his head. "It won't work Sakura. We've tried, and none of us can break through those steel walls..." Sakura looked up over at the wall where the enterance to the Lost woods lies. "Then, I'll just have to go under them... I'll just use my magic to--" Mido shakes his head again. "You've tried... Vines and plants are no match against these steel barriers apparently..."

She turns completely around and looks at him with some anger. "Do you forget who I am Mido!" Sakura says with a raised voice, alerting the others of the village, and causing the them to momentarily stop what they're doing to look at the two. "Sakura..." Mido says with some embarrasment. Sakura just stares at him. "I'm a Triforce Guardian!" She scans the village. "We can't even get into the Lost woods because of these walls... Our food supplies are running thin, and we've already lost three people this week alone... She looks over at a hut where the sick and weak Kokori kids are housed. "I'll be damned if I let these barbarians do this to my home. I'm going to get us out of here, if it takes every ounce of strength left in me."

Mido takes her hands. "Then what? You can't leave the forest Sakura... The Great Deku tree's health has been poor for some reason. I don't know if it can expend the energy necessary to create another tunic..." The two exchange looks of sympathy, and Sakura speaks. "...I can't let our people die because of these Hyrulian dogs who think they can rule the world."

She looks at the triforce symbol on her glove. "It was a mongrol like this that we fought against one hundred years ago." She looks back at him, with tears in her eyes. "You weren't there. You didn't see what I did Mido. The things I saw back then...the men that sacrificed themselves for the Hero of Time, and for the world..." She shuts her eyes and a tears rolls down her cheeks. "I don't want that to happen again."

She opens her eyes up, and begins walking towards the entrance to the Lost woods. Mido soon follows her. "I'll try again Mido. And I'll keep trying until I break down that wall. And then I'll move on to the next one and break that one too."

Sakura reaches the wall up to the entrance to the Lost woods, and quickly scales up the vine covered obstacle in a matter of a few seconds. She stands at the hollowed out trunk, next to the gossip stone, and puts her face up to the wall. "Lost children of the forest! Skull children! Please hear me! We are in need of your help!" She shouts.

Silence...

Sakura sighs, and tries again. "Please answer!"

But again, there is nothing... Nothing but the faint rustle of the leaves and grasses on the other side of the wall.

They were there. Listening...

Sakura starts pounding on the wall, and raises her voice. "You use to be of the Kokori race long ago! You're still welcome among us! Please! Answer me! We need your help! Our people..." She shakes her head, and starts over. "Your people! They're dying in here! Please help us break down these walls! Please..."

Mido finally makes it up the wall and joins Sakura. He breaths for a moment, and shakes his head at Sakura. "They're called the Lost children for a reason Sakura... They can't hear us. Ganon made sure of that when he corrupted their minds..." Sakura shakes hers right back in anger. "No! They can hear us. I heard nothing at first... but then I heard movement. They're listening Mido. I know they are." Mido narrowed his eyes and turned towards the wall. Most of the other Kokori by now had gathered on the rooftops of the tree houses, witnessing what was taking place. Some exchanged concerned glances, others exchanged looks of uncertainty. "If you are there, then help us! Help your people! We'll die in here if we don't get any assistance!" Mido shouted angerily at the wall.

Silence for another moment...

...Or so it seemed.

* * *

The battle, as long and droning as it was, ended rather quickly. The prisoners overran the Hellriders, ending them. The elite desert troops were defeated, Meathos the last of them.

Soon after the Kakariko escape, however, the prisoners had intercepted a caravan full of wounded prisoners and soldiers alike from the Front. The fifty prisoners, blinded with rage and adrenaline, rolled over the wagons and carriages with ease. But, by the end of it all, there were roughly eight or so of the escapees left.

13, 33 and 337 scavanged weapons and shields from the soldiers, and released their creativity. They positioned the bloody and mangled bodies in the shape of the Triforce, only it was point up. Beside their creation, the words 'THIS WAY UP' with an arrow pointing up, with the Triforce, were made with the weapons of the dead soldiers. Below it all, the number '1337' was written in whatever they could find. Arms, legs, weapons, wood...

It was now full-fledged day-time. Meathos, Jedam and a slew of recruits stood around their mess, ate, and got acquainted. There was a man named Albert, who ahd introduced himself foolishly in the heat of the battle.

There was a man named Sirithe, who had been injured on the Front. He was in the Wolfpack, but could not be trusted. He was not tied, but he was being watched.

Another Gerudo was also present. A woman. Meathos hadn't caught her name.

There was a 'Jack', with a strange accent. A few others were scattered.

Meathos found himself studying Gnisal, who had wandered off, and looked to be inspecting the dead. Every once in a while, he would tear a small piece of leather from his garb, and place it on one of the bodies. The Hellrider walked up, and asked what he had been doing.

"Go away, leave me alone." Gnisal snapped with a hoarse, almost tortured voice. He seemed nervous and unnatural. "Go!"

More and more time passed, and before they started actually moving, it was nearly 4 in the afternoon. The sky hung low, the clouds at half-mast. The sun was hiding the world from its view. The vagabonds, exiles, militia, were lost and forsaken by the world. They had no one but themselves.

"To get through this, we'll have to be hard as steel. We are now a militia, the volunteer army of the people. We will do our part in this world, this history. We are the Metal Militia, and we will take down the fascists." Meathos heard someone say. He liked it.

The last of the Hellriders plopped his square helmet on, cleaned his weapon, and helped the others try to get a wheel from one of the lead carriages to the old WarWagon in the back of the line.

The WarWagon was essentially an armoured carriage, heavy. It had a small chamber in the front of it, horses still intact. They would run when whipped, turning a tread beneath their feet. That tread had 'teeth' onlong the edges, which fit perfectly into the grooves in the tread below. The horses would run, and they would move the massive container of steel and wood.

In the sides were small slits for observation and bows. The back had a massive hatch which would open, letting its cargo of bloodthirsty soldiers free. It was a dark armoured hell, ensuring survival into a deeper level of the world of the damned.

That wagon would be their headquarters, their supply tent, their life line. It's 40 feet bay would hold enough for a short time. They would need more soon enough...

"A raid is coming..." Meathos warned the distant Hyrule Castle. Its immense size was being veiled by smoke and fog... But he noticed something odd: A small line was stringing from the massive gates that faced North... Reinforcements?

"More of them?" Jedam sighed. "Where do you guys come from? Trees?"

"I wish..." Meathos' eyes were trying to see the line clearly from the great distance. "There's got to be..." He turned to Jedam. "If we can see them from here, and not even the windows in the Market or the Castle..."

"Time to move, I'm seeing." Albert walked up to the two opposites. He looked at the two of them, and chuckled. The others looked at him, rather confused. "You both are damn familliar," he glanced to the Gerudo "but, I didn't catch your name. Halse, is it?"

Jedam's ears perked. "What... What did you say?"

Meathos rested the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. 'This is too fcking weird...' he thought.

"Halse? For some reason, I think your name is Halse..."

"It'd Jedam." The Gerudo walked away immediately, thinking hard. Meathos left aswell, but in a different direction. They would leave as soon as they could.

Hellrider walked on weak knees to the 'front' of their caravan. The survivors were throwing their bundles of supplies and equipment into the armoured wagon, and the injured used up the medical supplies and room.

"Captain," the one named Sirithe started as he formed up on Meathos' left side, "I think we should head to the Forest."

"The Forest?" Meathos had been stationed there before, once. He had seen nothing but trees, and heard the occasional twig snap, or a flute play. He knew all about the Kokiri of legend, but he had never seen one himself. Nor did he know anyone who had. "Why would we do that?"

"They wouldn't expect us to go there, Sir. And if they did, we would have the wall as protection. Maybe even the Kokiri, if they knew our cause."

"Somehow, I don't think they would welcome a tank rolling up to their realm and have a Captain of the Hellriders step out, demanding 'sanctuary'." Meathos chuckled and sat on a dead soldier.

"...It is the farthest from them, though." Sirithe gestured to the castle. He picked up a helmet off of the ground. "Hnh... Panzer Battalion."

Meathos chuckled a bit, and told Sirithe to spread the word. They would go to the Forest. As the wolf walked off quietly, the demon drummed on the hilt of his weapon, his life, and listened to the bombs within his head.


	9. The Service Strikes

The sun fell on Hyrule. Gnisal liked it that way. As most of the group began to settle down, Gnisal offered to take the night watch. The Gerudos sat around the campfire, conversing in their own tongue. Some of the other Hylians, including Meathos, Albert, and the one called Jack, began to get some shuteye. Gnisal found himself a good tree, and concealed himself in its uppermost branches.

Hours passed….

As awake as any hylian would be at noon, Gnisal still tended to his post in the tree. None stirred in the camp, and naught was heard save someone's constant snoring. Gnisal leaned back, counting his Kill Stripes. He had thirty seven now, having relinquished five on the battlefield. Each one of them was the life of an innocent…A life that Gnisal had taken. Now, he would give those lives back. He would earn his way to redemption.

Someone stirred. Gnisal abandoned his train of thought, and slowly and silently drew his makhaira. It was Sirithe, the Wolfpack Hylian, who had supposedly joined them during the battle at the caravan. Gnisal didn't trust him, and judging by the other's reactions to him, neither did they. Seeing the Hylian stand and creep out of the camp triggered countless alarm bells in Gnisal's head.

With the sound of a cat's shadow, Gnisal descended the tree. Drifting from shadow to shadow, the Sheikah tracked his prey, skillfully maneuvering himself in front of Sirithe. The Hylian quietly made his way to a small clump of trees, almost a mile from the camp. Still silent, Gnisal hid behind a large boulder as the Hylian walked by. Moving like lightning, Gnisal jumped out and held one blade to the knight's throat.

"Out for a stroll, are we?" Gnisal said, relieving Sirithe of his sword.

"I heard something, and I tried following it." Sirithe replied, not in the least bit frightened by the makhaira at his neck.

"Lies!" Gnisal whispered loudly, "Why should I believe you?"

"Because," Sirithe said, pointing forward, "You're going to need my help against them…"

Only then did Gnisal hear the leaves rustle and the twigs snap.

Stepping out from behind the rail thin trees and the large boulders, were three members of the Sheikah Service. Computing the numbers in his head, Gnisal was not pleased with the odds granted by a one on three fight. A two on three fight, naturally, was better. And if this Sirithe turned on him? Well, the odds of surviving a four man encounter were just as bad as surviving a three man one. His chances of having good chances relied on Sirithe. Gnisal slackened his grip on the Hylian, and shoved his sword back into his hands.

Gnisal recognized the three Sheikah. Cindar, an Intel officer, probably was the one who found them. He had brought along Slev and Curass, a pair of thugs with a dozen Kill Stripes between them. Slev and Curass brandished longswords, and Cindar a pair of handaxes.

Cindar spoke first to Gnisal. "Well, well, Zero. I'm surprised to see you here."

"Don't call me that. That name no longer has any meaning to me. I left all I did with that name." Gnisal replied.

"Whatever, Zero. The Council wants you back. It seems that they need someone with your….talents for an upcoming hit. What say you, Zero?"

" Stop…calling me that!."

Gnisal lunged at the Sheikah, thrusting with his makhaira. Slev and Curass wheeled into action, but were met by Sirithe and his blade. Even wounded, years at the front had conditioned the Hylian into a ferocious warrior. He easily held off the two sheikah, who were trained to kill effortlessly in the night.

Gnisal swing his makhaira like a thing possessed. He hated everything Cindar and his organization stood for. They had bloodied the Sheikah name, dishonored themselves in front of their glorious ancestors. Gnisal deflected one of Cindar's axes, then thrusted with his other hand. Cindar twisted himself out of the way, punching Gnisal in the face with the bottom of on of the axes.

Gnisal stumbled back, his back finding a boulder there, inhibiting his movement. Cindar charged, bringing both axes down. Gnisal fell into the stone's shadow, and Cindar's axes sparked as he caught nothing but rock. Turning around, he caught sight of Sirithe dropping one of the Sheikah with a slash across the chest.

"Where are you, Zero? Fight me like a man!" Cindar shouted to the field.

Before he saw Gnisal materialize out of thin air, or rather thin shadows, and before he saw the makhaira smash through his sternum, Cindar thought he heard the phase "My name is Gnisal" float through the wind.

Sirithe slashed downwards at one of the Sheikah and killed him, these people weren't as tough as the Gerudo, but a challenge in their own way. Stealthy and quick, a possibly deadly combination. He had no idea where Gnisal went, but he had other things on his mind right about then.

He ducked down and lifted his shield over his head to catch the overhead slice from the longsword wielding Sheikah. He extended his foot and went to sweep the feet out from under his enemy, to no avail. The Sheikah jumped back.

Sirithe stood to full height and approached the Sheikah "I see you have some problems with Gnisal?"

"None of your concern Hylian." The Sheikah snarled.

Sirithe shrugged and lifted his sword to strike. He struck out toward the Sheikah, catching him in the leg. The Sheikah went down and lay still. Not dead, but in pain.

Sirithe took out his dagger and shoved it into the Sheikah's neck, he hated killing sometimes, but not when he was attacked first.

He walked back towards the camp and saw them about to leave. He hopped in the WarWagon and walked over towards Gnisal.

"Care to tell me what that was all about?" Sirithe asked.

"Not quite, but I will tell you this killing a member of the Sheikah Service, let alone two, which I am sure you did is a death sentence as far as they are concerned. They'll hunt you until they kill you." Gnisal responded

"Well isn't that just lovely?" Sirithe snarled sarcastically.

"Since you were there helping me, I'll help you. You can tag along with me, I guess." Gnisal said.

"Thanks." Sirithe said.

He stretched his legs out and began to rest. It then occured to him, if there were sufficient Hylians near Kokiri to warrant an ambush he could be blamed. He wouldn't be able to stay here, the Hylians would kill him for treason, and he highly doubted the Gerudo would take him in. All he could do is wait, wait and hope no one else would think he was only there to betray them, Meathos already suspected him, and he could read it in others glances.

Jack gave a loud snort in his sleep. He was dreaming back to the lands of ice and snow beyond the Hyrulian forest line. He dreamed of the midnight sun and the hotsprings of his homeland. (Bonus points if you can tell me what this is a referance to )

Jack had a wife once. Beautiful in her own ways. A strong willed woman, never shaken by anything, yet still held a heart that could melt away the coldest climate. It was obvious why Jack loved her.

But…why did he call himself that?

Jack.

What an odd and out of place name. His real name being Ciaran and his family name was a closely guarded secret, not to be shared but to the most trusted friend.

Jack rustled around in the sack a bit and rose in the morning light. He began preparing a bit of chicory and grumbled.

"A man cannae get a bit o' rest in this place. I wonder if the others are ready to be up and aboot this early."

Jack looked towards Meathos, the Hellrider, and saw a troubled face. Though he was sleeping, Meathos looked to still have a lot on his mind. Jack then looked to Albert and saw that he was in such a deep sleep that he decided not to wake him.

Jack walked down a path in the forest a bit and stopped at the base of a large deku. And drew out a quill and piece of parchment. Jack dipped the quill in ink and held it pised to begin writing.

"I figure to write mah music a bit here so those whelps cannae see it. This war we are in. It makes fer a good subject when it comes tae music. And these braw lads I'm with. They fight like warrior poets……They deserve to live forever in writing."

And so the song began, "Warrior Poets".

Jack sat writing for a good twenty minutes and the song was completed. It was a master ballad of braw warriors and troubles only solved through the clangs of cold steel. It was a worthy ballad for the warriors. Perhaps they'll see it one day.

"I like this bonny wee song. I'll have tae sing it aloud one day. I believe it suits th--!"

A small gurgle was heard as if a person was dieing. Jack rushed back to camp to inform the others of what he had heard.. When he arrived, Jack saw that the others had already awakened and were strapping on gear while helping themselves to a bit of chicory.

"I've heard something. A wee little sound in the woodland there. It sounded as if a poor creature was being killed."

At that same moment, Gnisal was walking back into camp. A few small splotches of blood could be see on his legs.

"An where have ye been ye shifty creature? An whose blood be that laddie?"

"Its non of your concern, foreinger."

Meathos halted the argument. He stepped between the two men and spoke strongly.

"It doesn't matter. It obviously not one of our people so lets not worry about it. We have to move out shortly. Get your gear and hop to it."

* * *

Ayame stood a few feet away from the group, her back facing them. She was kneeling down next to one of the dead bodies.

She gave a light tug and pulled out the last of her knives from the chest of the fallen soldier. She wiped the blood off on his arm and tucked it safely into her cloak.

The soldier had a young face, and he had died so quickly, his eyes were still open. He had the brightest blue eyes. Ayame gave a look of disgust. Looking at her dead victims in the eyes always gave her a small guilty feeling, so she pulled his helmet down over his eyes.

She saw he had a canteen on his belt, so she pulled it off, opened it and took a sip. It was water. She took a few gulps this time and lowered her hood. She turned around.

In total, there were five men in the group she had joined to fight with. She spied the Gerudo she had seen before and walked over to the him.

Jedam lifted his head, his thoughts interrupted, as Ayame approached him.

"It's nice to see a Gerudo…who's still alive after a fight." She reached out her hand. "My name is Ayame."

"I'm Jedam." Ayame shook his hand, and handed him the canteen. "It's just water..." she said, when she noticed his surprised look. She only hoped he didn't recognize her, many Gerudos still remembered her dark past.

"Who are they?" Ayame asked, turning her head towards the other four men.

"His name is Meathos" Jedam said, not pointing. Ayame simply followed his eyes. She looked at the Hylian man sitting on the dead soldier. Their eyes met, but there was no smile, or words exchanged from either of them. The look in their eyes said it all. It was a look of understanding.

"Gnisal is in there" Jedam was looking towards the WarWagon. She glanced around at the others, and then it occurred to her.

"Was he the Sheikah?"

"Yes", replied Jedam.

Ayame's eyes narrowed. She remembered seeing him. His outfit, let alone his fighting style was very different from the others. How strange. This group was much more diverse than she thought.

"His name is Jack, and that's…" Ayame's eyes widened at she immediately recognized Sirithe, who was presently getting in the WarWagon as well. Other than that, she made no reaction, but inside she was relieved to see he was alright. "I wonder what he'll do if he sees me…" she thought. Obviously he would be fighting with her, that is, if he still didn't want to arrest her. But she didn't want to worry about that now.

"So...what's the plan?"

"That guy Sirithe came up with the idea that we should head to the Forest. We hope to…"

"Get as far away from them as possible?" Ayame interrupted, seeing the soldiers approaching in the distance. "I see…" She turned to Jedam and gave a small smile. "Thank you."

Ayame headed towards the WarWagon. Before she reached it, she stopped in front of the man named Meathos. Meathos looked up, but not moving his head. Ayame kneeled down to eye level.

"My name is Ayame, and I'm here to help, in any way I can."

Meathos gave a her a small nod, and Ayame stood up once again. That was all she needed. She finished walking to the WarWagon and climbed inside.

* * *

Gnisal thumbed the area where his old Kill Stripe had lingered. He now had thirty six, having left one more of the symbolic lives on his latest kill. Cindar, the slimy intelligence officer, was barely worthy of representing Freya White, the political activist who Gnisal murdered on his thirty seventh assignment. He knew all their names, remembered every face...Remembered all the silent looks of terror as he killed them.

"Hey, are you all right?" Jedam said, jarring Gnisal out his private lamentation.

"I'm fine." Gnisal replied. "I don't want to talk now. Later. Tonight, perhaps." Gnisal squinted up at the sun. It was too damn bright. The bleaching sun stung his eyes. Gnisal longed for the cool, enveloping cloak of darkness to take him. Then, only then, would he be at peace.

Jedam nodded, and went off to talk to Meathos, who was carefully guiding the WarWagon over some rough terrain. An auburn haired girl sided up next to Gnisal.

"Hey, whatcha doing?" the girl asked, tapping Gnisal on the shoulder.

The light, it was so damn burning. It was a constant pain that Gnisal could not escape. He didn't want to talk now. Couldn't all these people realize it? He hadn't even bothered to clean Cindar's blood off his jumpsuit. The sun, that damn sun…

"Get away from me!" Gnisal snapped.

The girl jumped a bit, and walked off in a different direction. Damn kids, Gnisal thought. She was practically half his age. Probably never killed a man before. Some "revolutionaries". Looking around, the only people Gnisal recognized, or could trust for that matter, were Meathos, Jedam, and Sirithe. The Wolfpack Hylian had proven himself to Gnisal. Killing a Sheikah was no laughing matter.

Gnisal looked around at the other members of his newly found team.

There was one, Albert, who looked Hylian, but...moved wrong. Gnisal really couldn't place what it was about him that set him apart. Something about Albert felt foreign, and Gnisal wasn't sure if he could trust this foreigner. He certainly couldn't trust him until he learned more about him. Information was the key to life and death on a battlefield.

Scanning around, Gnisal's eyes fell upon the Gerudo woman, Ayame. She was silent, deathly silent. She would have made a good Sheikah, Gnisal mused. Ayame had really only spoken to Jedam on a few occasions, and mostly kept to herself. Once again, Gnisal resigned himself to find out more about his newfound companion, before he could truly devote his trust to her.

There were others, a Hylian named Jack who had busted out of Kakariko with the other three, and a ton of Gorons, led by the great Darmani II. Gnisal made a point to keep some distance between himself and the Gorons. He had done far too many jobs on Death Mountain. The last thing he needed was for some angry relative of one of his Kill Stripes to recognize him.

The sun had just cleared its highest point, and was slowly beginning its downfall. His course set, Meathos turned control over to Jedam and slid down onto a bench across from Gnisal.

"So, I figure it will take another day to reach the outskirts of the Forest. What do you think?" Meathos inquired of the Sheikah.

That damn sun, Gnisal thought, why won't it let me be?

Gnisal sucked in his breath, and forced himself to speak. "I'll….talk to you later, Meathos"


	10. On the Run

"Halse?"

In a single week the Gerudo had been adressed by that name twice... both times by Hylians, to make matters even stranger. His memories wandered to the brawl he'd had with the Hylian Meathos in the trench. At first it seemed as if it'd been a fight to the death, then... what exactly HAD happened? Seemingly going insane for the moment, Meathos had immediately halted the fight and called him by that damned name.

Halse. Jedam reached over towards his sword, his gaze not leaving the sky far above him.

Then there was that newcomer... Albert, was it? In this instance Jedam didn't notice any changes in personality or objective. A casual, "Halse, was it?"

He sat up as his hand reached the sword which he'd nearly lost back in the camp. Pulling it out of its scabbard he admired the flawless craftsmenship and intricate symbols engraved in it. It had been supposedly created nearly 300 years ago from the melted down blades of the supposed "Guardian" Halse. His ancestor.

Though he'd never go into a battle without it, that damn blade had caused him trouble... too much trouble for his liking. He was honored among at least half the Gerudos: the half who held true to their hearts the 'myth' of the Hero of Time and the great efforts of the Guardian Halse to save Hyrule near 300 years ago. Among the other half he was worth less than the sand which sunk under their pounding boots day after day. To those to whom the Hero was a simple 'myth', Jedam was but a pampered fool worthy of nothing.

Jedam's gaze shifted slowly away from the blade he held toward Ayame, the only other Gerudo in their pack of renegades.

"Figures," he said to himself. "The only other Gerudo here and she doesn't know of my lineage."

He hadn't heard her refer to him as 'that' Jedam and he hoped it would stay that way.

"No need for her to know then, at least for now... As for those other two, " he began, then stopped. Lying back on the ground to gain some well earned rest, he knew the time would come to ask what needed to be.

* * *

One hundred miles back in the direction of the former prison Kakariko, several soldiers on horseback had come upon the wreckage left courtesy of the escapees. As one soldier walked cautiously among the bodies, he stopped suddenly and, with a face of utmost disgust on his face, turned back toward the others.

"Sir, " he began, voice shaking. "I believe General Gano should see this... though it may not suit him as positive." The squad's captain walked over to the soldier and, after seeing it for himself, sent word for the general to arrive at once. Nearly fourty minutes later a figure clad in black, untarnished armor had entered the site and dismounted his horse.

The lowly soldiers mentally cowered and near threw themselves out of the way as General Gano swept by them, his heavy boots composing a dull monotonous clank as they met the blood soaked ground.

"Here, General, " the captain said, unsure if the irritable General's temper would allow him to leave his spot unharmed.

As the towering Gano's eyes fell upon the wreckage, a rage like none other he'd felt before exploded within him. Before his very eyes lay the grotesque form of nine mangled soldiers, their bodies tampered with and laid in the shape of a Triforce. Unlike the Triforce Gano had shoved into the faces of all of Hyrule over the years of his reign, this one lay pointing upwards as it had 300 years ago.

Nostrils flaring, Gano averted his gaze to the large 'monument' left just under the bodies. The number 1337 formed with both bloody weapons and ligaments engraved itself into his mind. Nearby the numbers were 13, 33 and 337's 'gifts' to the General.

Leather straps of the Shiekah used to designate their assassinations were attached to a few of the dead soldiers. Five, he counted. Nearby the stripe of a former Hellrider had been violently set into a body. To the right of the stripe: a basic Gerudo symbol written in the blood of another nearby fallen soldier.

Gnisal, Meathos and Jedam hoped deep down that the general would appreciate their presents.

As the General fumed and clenched his fists, the captain built up the courage to utter a syllable.

"Gen-"

The captain was cut off by the abrupt spinning around of Gano, followed by a heavy spiked gaunlet to the face. Gano stepped over the man, now clutching his bloodied mug.

"Those bastards wished to make themselves known to me, eh?" Gano's angered voice rose, frightening the men around him. "Their wish has been granted. All available men will now pursure these curs. Any Gerudo, Shiekah or former soldiers are to be captured and brought personally to me. If they are wounded, the attacker's life will be wasted away in the prison."

The soldiers scrambled away from the fuming general, readying to give chase to the caravan.

"Oh yes, I'll be needing a new captain as well."

Not granting the bleeding man another glance, Gano mounted his great horse and set off at a rush back towards 'his' castle.

* * *

Ayame had unsheathed her katana, quietly for she did not want to alarm anyone, and was now finishing cleaning it with a cloth she had found in the wagon. But that's wasn't all she was doing.

She was also thinking about Naoto, and all the other Gerudos that were fighting at the present moment. This image of his dead body, lying in a massive grave somewhere with so many others made her even angrier at her enemies. She wondered if Jedam was thinking about them too.

He must have known Naoto. He was a great leader, very well respected. She turned away, and quickly wiped the tear from her eye. She still hadn't managed to think about him without having the urge to cry.

She turned back, making it seem as if she had only glanced at something. She finished cleaning her katana, and sheathed it. Hylian blood was so disgusting.

Suddenly, Ayame took off her black cloak, exposing her scars. She didn't bother to look up at anyone, to see if there were any reactions. She detached the sheaths holding her daggers and placed them beside her. She also took the poison out of her cloak, and placed it in the pouch on her belt. She left the matches and the glass cutter inside the cloak.

She tossed the cloak over to Gnisal, and it landed beside him.

Whether he had realized it or not, she had been watching everyone closely out of the corner of her eyes. She had quickly noticed Gnisal's discomfort.

"Put it on if you like, I don't care. It will block the sun for you. Don't worry, you don't have to say anything." she said, waving a hand at him when he looked like he was going to speak. She didn't smile at him or anything. Her face remained emotionless.

She found room in the wagon, and laid down on her back, putting her feet up on a small box. She put her hands behind her head and stared up at the sky. For there is nothing a Gerudo enjoys more than the sunlight. She figured she might as well claim her sleeping spot before anyone else got comfortable, especially the Gorons.

She didn't really want to have a conversation with anyone, besides Jedam, but she figured she might as well earn the trust of the others, considering she just fought side by side with them, and will do the same thing once again.

"Sirithe…how's your head?"

This took everyone by surprise, except for Jedam. To him, she didn't seem so quiet. Some even wondered who had spoken.

Sirithe responded, still surprised. "Oh…um, I'm fine, just a bump."

"That's good…" Ayame then closed her eyes. That was enough conversation for one day.

* * *

Cahir saw Darmani talking to Meathos. He thought about going to see what they were talking about, but decided to rest instead.

"Cahir, we are leaving."

"Where to, Darmani, the Mountain Village in Termina?"

"Yes, we will settle there for now, maybe find a perminent home later."

"Wait," Meathos said coming to Cahir and Darmani. "Before you go, maybe he could stay with us, we could use the strength of a Goron where we're going. And don't worry, we'll take good care of him."

"Only if Cahir wants to."

"Yes, I'll go."

"Well make sure you say good-bye for sister, I'm sure she'll miss you."

"Yeah, I'll go see her." Cahir walked over to her, telling her bye. They hugged and Cahir came back to Darmani and Meathos. "She's pretty sad, but I need to help these people, plus I hate the Hyrulians just as much as them."

"Yes, well, good-bye Cahir, for now."

"Bye."

* * *

Malon looked at the group of people she was now traveling with. There were 2 Gerudos, a lot of Gorons, a Sheikah covered in blood, a Hylian with a very odd accent, a man that was like a Hylian but wasn't, and Meathos. She knew that another Hylian was in the wagon. She looked over at the female Gerudo. No one seemed to care about her except the other Gerudo and neither did she about the rest. She was practically in her own world. It didn't seem like she'd respond to her if she said something. Malon sighed as she walked away. She could possibly have a friend if the female Gerudo would open up to her. Her black eyes scanned the group and she saw the foreigner as one of the people put it. She walked over to him and said,

"I didn't catch your name."

The foreigner looked up and said,

"Jack. My name is Jack."

Malon tried not to laugh. Jack, what an odd name among this group.

"Well, Jack, what's that guys name over there?"

she pointed at the Sheikah man.

"Lassie, that'd be Gnisal."

Malon suppressed laughter once more. Now Jack sounded even more out of place.

"And the Gerudos?"

"Jedam and Ayame."

"That strange man?"

"Albert."

"That other Hylian?"

"Sirithe."

"Thanks, Jack."

Malon walked over to the WarWagon. She looked over at Meathos. He was a born worker. She walked over to him and asked

"So, uh, where are we going again?"

"Kokiri Forest."

"Thanks, Meathos."

Malon continued walking around. There was just one thought that kept coming. Kokiri Forest? Isn't that the seclusion area of the Kokiri people? Why are we going there? She didn't ask anybody seeing as they probably thought she was just a pathetic kid. She looked over at the Gorons. What hilarious creatures they were! They were huge with rocks growing out of their backs. She noticed one of them doing a punch. She turned the other way and looked at Gnisal. He now had a cloak! She turned to Ayame and saw a load of scars on her as she climbed into the WarWagon. She then heard a voice talking to Sirithe. She didn't know who that was until finally she figured out it was Ayame. Wow, and I thought she had a vow of silence. She turned back towards Meathos and saw a Goron talking with him. The Goron walked over to another one and began talking. She walked closer and heard them talking.

"Cahir, we are leaving."

"Where to, Darmani, the Mountain Village in Termina?"

"Yes, we'll settle there for now, maybe find a permanent home later."

She felt a little, unsafe now knowing the group was losing all this protection. Meathos walked up to the Gorons and said to Cahir and Darmani

"Wait, Before you go, maybe he could stay with us, we could use the strength of a Goron where we're going. And don't worry, we'll take good care of him."

"Only if Cahir wants to."

"Yes, I'll go."

Malon walked off, knowing that the group had some protection now. She looked over at Gnisal, he seemed, calmer now but she wouldn't risk saying anything to him for a while. Malon walked over to Albert quietly. He seemed so funny and strange.

"Whatcha doin?"

Albert jumped with a start to see Malon standing over him.

"Oh. Hello there...uh...Malon is it? I was just reflecting on my past."

"Oh. I see. Well, I guess you want to be alone now, so-"

"Wait. Stay, and tell me a little about yourself. I have a feeling that all of us could grow if we know about each other."

Malon sat next to Albert,

"Well, you see, my family, my foster family that is, have told me nothing but lies all my life. I can never forgive them. That's why I stole these Gold Bow and Arrows from them."

Malon pulled out her Gold Bow and a few Golden arrows. Albert looked at them and smiled.

"Hmm...you sound as if you...genuinely hated those people."

"Well, what else could I do? They had told me that the Hellriders were evil, and Meathos surely isn't evil. They said that Greudos and Sheikahs never got along, yet Jedam and Gnisal are good pals. They had told lies to my face, and I can never forgive them."

"I see what you mean."

"But enough about me. Tell me about yourself. How did you get so good at fighting?"

"Well, it started about 9 years ago...from what I can remember. I was enlisted in the Hyrulian Army. Mind you, back then it was a time of peace. 3 years later, my company was shipped off to war, and we endured many hardships, eventually meeting our goal, but losing good soldiers as well. When I had returned home, my village called me a hero for saving not only them, but all of Hyrule. Apparently, the rest of my company was also. then, 6 years later, I awoke to find a statue of me in the central plaza of the village. I was captured for trying to touch it. To make a long story short, I escaped, taking my weapons," he drew the Grayswandir and Fenrir, "And putting the man in charge out of commission for a few days. And now I'm here. But from what I can remember, there weren't any Hellriders around when I returned. So I'm traveling with Meathos to find out what's happened these past 6 years. I didn't recognize anyone when I woke up. What was worse, I couldn't find any of my family or friends. When I asked, they started calling me crazy."

"That's so sad."

"Yes, but its good to talk it out. Even if it brings...pain. But I always remember what my father would tell me, 'Even if we're apart, our hearts will be together.'"

"Well, I'm gonna go mingle some more. Nice to meet you!"

What a poor man. I really feel sorry for him.

She looked around and saw Gnisal. She sided up to him and looked up at him. He was staring at Meathos moving the WarWagon. The heat seemed to bother him.

"Hey, whatcha doing?"

She touched his arm and he seemed to grow tense. He glared down at her, beads of sweat dripping off his face, and growled,

"Get away from me!"

Malon jumped back and went into the other direction. Great, this is what's it's going to be like from now on? Grumpy old people acting like 5-year-olds. She ran her fingers through her auburn hair. She then laid down on the ground. A little nap wouldn't hurt. She let out one last sigh and closed her eyes.


	11. Dreams, Disciples, and Discoveries

Ayame woke up to the loud snoring of the Goron. "How anyone is supposed to sleep around here, I'll never know…" she thought, a bit irritated.

She noticed her cloak was now laying on top of her. She look over to where Gnisal was, and found he had left. Probably couldn't sleep! She stretched a little and turned to look out over the horizon.

Nearby, there was a small cluster of tall trees. That's when she noticed a shadow move from behind one of the trees. An animal perhaps? Pretty big to be an animal. She decided to go investigate.

"Will you be quiet? Do want us to get caught?"

"I'm sorry! I'm just a little…"

"Scared?"

"No!"

"I should have known..."

Ayame stood beside the tree, and looked down upon two female Gerudo children, only about 7 or 8 years old, huddled together. The one looked up at her with big, frightened eyes. The other was much braver. She glared at Ayame.

"What are two little girls doing all the way out here so late at night?"

The braver girl stood up. "For your information, we're planning to rob that camp over there. So beat it!"

Ayame just smiled. "I wouldn't if I were you. There are some tough guys over there."

"We're not afraid! Are we Dana?"

The other girl only nodded slightly.

"Looks like your partner would like to disagree. Head home girls, and pick an easier target next time."

"They are not going anywhere…" The voice was was cold and cruel. Out of the darkness, an older Gerudo woman appeared. "They have to finish their training."

"Training? Trust me, this isn't training, this is suicide."

"They have to toughen up. They are orphans of the war, and need to learn how to defend themselves. Or have you forgotten about the war, Ayame?"

Ayame's eyes narrowed into a glare. "Believe me, I haven't forgotten."

"I saw you come from this camp. Have you sided with the enemy now? That would be your style…"

"No. I am planning to rob it." A total lie, but Ayame hoped it would make them go away.

"Do you have a partner? Or did you kill her already?" The Gerudo woman gave an evil grin.

As Ayame drew her sword, the two Gerudo children moved farther away, and hid behind another tree. "Get her Shina!"

The Gerudo woman named Shina drew her sword as well, and charged at Ayame. Ayame stood there, and held back her attack with her own sword. Shina's face got close enough to Ayame's for her to whisper.

"Your mother would be so ashamed to see what you have become."

Ayame pushed her off. Shina continued to attack her, Ayame dodging her blows.

"I don't want to fight you Shina!"

"You traitor! Since when have you cared about your own people? You even let Naoto die!"

Those words rang in Ayame's head. She fell to the ground on her knees.

There was the loud boom of thunder above them, lightning flashed, and the rain started to pour down.

Ayame stared at the ground, her tears blending in with the rain drops.

"You deserve to die Ayame."

Shina raised her sword, above Ayame's neck. As it swung down, Ayame's own sword raised above her head, and blocked it.

Shina's eyes widened. Ayame looked up at her. "Naoto died fighting. and so will I."

Ayame stood up quickly. Their swords clashed against eachother. Shina was too tired from traveling, and Ayame had just rested. Shina let her guard down for one second, and Ayame reached out and cut her hand. Shina dropped her sword, and Ayame pinned her up against one of the trees.

"Are you going to kill me Ayame?" Ayame glared at her, her black eyes burning with anger. "Are you going to kill me in front of them?"

Ayame noticed out of the corner of her eye, that the two Gerudo children were still there, tears in their eyes, petrified with fear. Ayame loosened her grip on Shina's throat. Shina fell to ground, weak. The two Gerudo children ran up to Shina.

"She'll be fine." Ayame said, reaching down and picking up Shina's sword. She walked back over, and dropped it in front of Shina.

"Your mother would be ashamed to know you are a coward that hides behind the tears of children."

Ayame turned, and walked away. Shina stumbled up, grabbed her sword, and charged at Ayame one last time, from behind. Ayame did a back flip and landed behind her. Shina had enough time to turn around and see the hilt of Ayame's sword hit her on the head. Shina fell into Ayame's arms, unconscious.

Ayame dragged her over to the two Gerudo girls, who by now had called their horse over. Ayame placed Shina's limp body on the horse, and looked down at the girls. They both had a look of embarrassment. The braver girl grabbed the horse's reins and they both walked off into the darkness.

Ayame waited until they disappeared, pulled up her hood, and walked back towards the camp.

When she got there, she climbed into the wagon once more, and gave a long sigh. Her body was now drenched, her bangs almost covering up her eyes. A loud snore came from the Goron. She pushed back her bangs, water dripping off of them. She sat there, her arms folded, her head down, waiting for daylight.

* * *

Albert was recollecting on his thoughts again. He missed home so much. Well, his old home. Not the one he found when he awoke. And these Hellriders and the upside down Triforce...What did it mean? And why does no one know who he is? He had aided in the defeat of the enemy general. Surely someone should know who he is, and he intends to find that person.

It began to rain, and he was still out in the rain. He heard the snoring goron from the wagon, and sword clashing in the distance. Somehow, he didn't feel like checking it out. The storm wasn't to violent, so he remained for a few minutes before getting an odd sensation flowing in his veins. His mind told him to travel east. He knew a few paces away was a clearing, for he collected some wood for fire that day. He walked over to the grove, readying his bow.

In the clearing, everything seemed fine; the only thing there was a hawk stuck in the mud with a broken wing. Albert approached the hawk. It did nothing towards Albert. Assuming it was safe to help, and taking much risk, he tended to the hawk. When he was done, he stroked the hawk's head, wondering if he should keep it as a pet. He had always wanted a hawk, but his parents forbid it, and the army didn't want animals. Since this was a different situation, he decided to keep the animal, naming it Sephir.

He took sephir into his arms and strode out of the clearing. He then heard a clasp of thunder hit the middle of the clearing, and out of the smoke came a man. He looked like he wasn't from around here; he wore a blood red robe with black trim, decorated in golden paint, depicting souls fleeing. He carried an odd looking staff that was black with golden trim, and had 4 crystals hovering and rotating around the middle crystal, all which were ruby.

"Ahh, at last we meet again, Albert. Its been so long." The man drew a claymore, readying it for a fight.

"Who are you, and how do you know who I am?" Albert quesitoned, setting Sephir in a tree, and drawing his swords.

"Why, you of all people should know...we're very much alike, you and I. We have other affairs. You want to find out more about recent history, and I want to destroy this pitiful Shadow."

"Shadow...what are you talking about?"

"Hmm...Then you really must not know who I am. Very well. I shall tell you, and remember the name well, for Mandor will become the ruler of all chaos!"

Another clasp of lightning, and the man disappeared. Albert sheathed the blades, and took Sephir into his arms. Was it just another of his visions? Or was it real? And what about Chaos and Shadows? They sounded...familiar. But he wasn't sure from where.

Setting that thought aside, he traveled back to the camp, and found a nice dry spot in a hollowed tree to sleep. He saw a skeleton of a Kokiri in there, and decided not to move it. He put Sephir in the skeleton's ribs and lay next to it, letting sleep overcome him. On the ceiling of the hollowed tree was only one word.

* * *

The child of foster blocks her past but she will never forget it.

Malon stared at drenched Ayame returning to the WarWagon. Her eyes started making out the faces of the shadows with the early lights of dawn. It seems Ayame had some business to take care of. Her eyes revealed Jedam. He was a Gerudo who kept to himself as best as he could except with Meathos and Gnisal. He was staring at the sky. She sighed. If I ever get close to him, he'll skin me like an animal. She walked over towards Meathos. He had changed into his Hellrider uniform. She pulled the sword from its sheath once more. It was shinning gold now. How pretty. It looks like my bow and arrows.

"Meathos?"

"Yeah?"

"Uh, there are these symbols on my sword. Can you, um, read them?"

Meathos looked at Malon's sword. He scanned the symbols and said,

"The Sword of the Forgotten."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Forgotten like my real parents and friends."

Malon whispered. Meathos looked at her as she blinked. When she reopened her eyes, Meathos was covered in blood and was coughing like her dream.

"Malon," Meathos coughed. Malon started to shed a few tears. She blinked to stop the tears and when she looked up, Meathos was fine.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Malon walked away from Meathos. What was that? I have never had dreams like those before, and I never saw anything like that before, either. I really hope this isn't a sign. She looked at Gnisal. He seemed to be ready for the dawn. The cloak Ayame gave him was back with Ayame so he had no protection from the light. He had cleaned the Sheikah blood off of him. She heard a noise inside a tree and saw Albert and a hawk. He was just getting ready to sleep. She shuddered as she saw the hawk in a skeleton of a Kokiri.

"Albert, I had another dream."

"What was it about?"

"The woman and Meathos. Meathos walked over towards the woman and me and he got hit with a bomb. He was blood-covered and coughing from smoke. He called my name and I went to save him but the woman said 'You must let the dying die'. It sounds so familiar. Just now, I talked with him and I saw him like that again. I blinked and then he was normal again."

"That's strange."

"I know."

Malon suddenly felt dizzy. Her mind began to soar. The hawk began to squawk. She gasped as she started to tip over.

"Malon?"

Albert got up. Malon stared at him and left the tree with speed then went to camp. She stood near the WarWagon as her world began to disappear. She fell over and thought she heard Gnisal approaching.

* * *

Panic was all Falgor could feel as he was running for his life, feeling the hot wind rush past his face. His thoughts were jumbled, but he could clearly make them out.

What the hell just happened! Well, I'm not complaining, least I escaped... but honestly! These people are crazy. They throw me in jail just because I'm a foreigner, I look like an agent of some devil, and because I was armed. Good thing I had enough time to get out and get my sword. he thought as he continued running.

His sword was weighing him down, but he couldn't bear to get rid of it, it was made by his stepfather. Just then, he wondered what his stepfather was doing before he noticed something in the distance. Falgor stopped, his red eyes scanning the length which he had to travel, and whatever he saw. It didn't seem too far, but he knew he had to run the distance to make it there, however, he didn't want to appear hostile.

"If that's what I think it is, then there's people, and where there's people, there's food! I could really go for something filling... Prison food doesn't agree with me,"

he said with spite. Where he came from, the prisoners were well-treated. Here, he was treated unjustly. Still, he continued on running, but as he did, he shrank, and his clothes were disappearing into his body, and his features were becoming canine. Soon, he was a pure white wolf, dashing toward his target.

Malon watched the bush near camp carefully. Something told her something was coming. The group had just started to move but she surely wasn't ready yet. Then, she saw golden eyes. Her heart raced. What the hell is that! She pulled her sword. She would kill this thing and give it's head to Meathos. She pushed the bush apart and saw a white wolf turning into a human.

"Holy Sh!t!" Malon said falling backwards. The human brushed himself off and stood up. He was pure white with pink eyes and silver hair.

"Who are you?"

Malon said holding her sword up to the man's neck.

"Falgor." The man said. His pink eyes were squinting to make out the camp. He looked down at his sword. He could easily out manuever this girl with the half moon still in the sky.

"Well, Falgor, why are you here? This is our camp you have no need to be here!"

"I have escaped from Kakariko. I am here to help."

"Heh, I'll believe it when I see it. You seem a lot like a ghost."

"Not a demon?"

"No, why? Are you?"

"No."

"Good. Come on. You get judgment."

Malon began to walk away leaving Falgor behind. He ran up beside her as his mind raced. Oh God. What have I gotten myself into? He hung his head as they approached the group.

"Meathos, Gnisal, Jedam! I found this man on the outskirts of camp. I don't know what he wants or what he's doing here but I do know he has a very odd ability. He can be a wolf. It was a white one with gold eyes."

The three men looked at the man. They were unsure if he was safe or not.

"I mean you no harm!" Falgor said

"If he means it, I'll take responsibility for him." Malon said. The three men looked at each other and apparentally decided he could stay as long as he was watched.

"Do not ever pull anything bad around here or my ass is cooked." Malon said finally putting her sword back in it's sheath.

"I won't."

Falgor said. He pulled up his hood. The dawn's rays were getting brighter, too bright for an avarage albino.

Falgor sat down as he pulled his coat closer to his body. He felt very outlandish in this group, partially because of his albinism, rest is his foreignity. It was as simple as that, he had a terrible reputation in his country, and he feared it spread to this one. Still, he felt obligated to their cause, whatever it was.

"Y'know, you're the nicest person I've met since I got to this place," he said rather quietly to Malon.

"Pardon?"

"You said I looked more like a ghost. Coming from anyone, for me, that's a compliment. Most people think I look like a demon."

"Well, you kind of do," Malon told him.

The Falling Moon blade sat in front of him, the moon markings giving off a sort of glow, like a moon in the sky. His red eyes ran up and down the blade carefully, as if he was looking for something. When he was done, Falgor looked up at Meathos.

"Hey, you're name's Meathos right? Like that one guy, General Meathos?" he asked the man Malon was talking to earlier.

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"No particular reason. I've only heard of this General, from my brother," Falgor responded. "So tell me, what are you going to do with me? After all, my reputation as 'the Demon' would delight anyone to cutting off my head. And trust me, none of it is true, if you've heard the stories."

Falgor held his stomach, and grinned weakly.

"You wouldn't happen to spare a bit of food, would you? I've had nothing but prison food, and grass as a snack," he said with a grimacing look.


	12. Shadows

"Sirithe, how's your head?" Those words snapped Sirithe out of his meditative state.

"Oh… Um fine I guess, just a bump." He answered.

He had been wondering how he could make these people trust him more, nothing could be more dangerous than your own teammates not trusting and being friendly toward you in a war, he could easily be left behind to die.

Only one person definitely trusted him the Sheikah, Gnisal. After the whole fight, Sirithe noticed a slight change in attitude from him.

The female Gerudo, Ayame, seemed to trust him some too.

Meathos, there was something different about him, might be slightly shaken from all the war, something Sirithe had seen often. But Sirithe knew Meathos didn't trust him, oh well, eventually.

He looked over and saw Meathos talking to Darmani II and another Goron, shortly afterward all the Goron, except the one who was talking with Darmani II and Meathos, left.

The new girl, Sirithe thought her name was Malon was talking to Jack. He watched them for a moment then looked away, towards Gnisal.

He was huddled under a black cloak, the light seemed to bother him some. He had seemed tense and snappish all day, maybe Sirithe would go talk to him later that night.

He looked around for Jedam, the other Gerudo in this group. He saw him and walked over to him "Hey" he said.

Jedam looked over towards him and answered "What do you want Hylian?"

"I was just wondering, do you know Ayame? She seems kind of lonely." Sirithe said.

"No, and if you're worried about her, go talk to her, just leave me alone." Jedam snapped.

Sirithe walked away and went back towards the WarWagon, this was forming up to be a pitiful time. He could only count on two of all these people in a battlefield. He hoped it didn't come to that soon. When he was back with the Wolfpack, the entire squad had his back, now he was going to have to watch it himself? That was something new.

He looked out across Hyrule Field. He could distantly see some trees, but not the Forest at all yet. This was going to be a long trip, hopefully Gano didn't know where they were going, or he might be fighting two sides at once. A battle he couldn't possibly win.

He sat down and closed his eyes. He again flashed back to that day, when Breed died. This time though, it was the same, except that his sword was encased in fire. Odd... He sat there for awhile, just thinking.

* * *

Well, the wagon's not much, but its a hell lot better than a cellar.

Albert had many restless nights, and was exhausted from the heat. He found this odd, because he loved the heat. Cold made him think of his fallen comrades. He thought to himself that the cold was his true weakness. That is what he felt in the cellar. Cold and no hope of escape, or finding anyone who knew him.

He was glad, however, to have found some companions to travel with. It reminded him of the peaceful times, when there was no war going on. Everybody seemed moody and upset now, but in time, they'll be at each other's aid. That's what happened last time, Albert thought, so it shall happen again.

Still, there was the matter of the greudo, Jedam, reacting oddly to when he accidently called him Halse. He had wondered about this for the longest time, and he still couldn't figure out why he had called him Halse. He wasn't Halse, that's for sure. Also, the Hellrider Meathos looked especially familiar. Like he had met him before, but he had not.

"What'cha doin?"

Albert jumped with a start to see the new girl standing over him.

"Oh. Hello there...uhh...Malon is it? I was just reflecting on my past."

"Oh. I see. Well, I guess you want to be alone now, so-"

"Wait. Stay, and tell me a little about yourself. I have a feeling that all of us could grow if we know about each other."

Malon sat next to Albert, and she began to tell him about her family, how they were awful to her.

"Hmm...you sound as if you...genuinely hated them."

"Well, what else could I do? They had told me that the Hellriders were evil, and Meathos surely isn't evil. They said that Greudos and Shiekahs never got along, yet Jedam and Gnisal are good pals. They had told lies to my face, and I could never forgive them."

"I see what you mean."

"But enough about me. Tell me about yourself. How did you get so good at fighting?"

"Well, it started about 9 years ago...from what I can remember. I was enlisted in the Hyrulean Army. Mind you, back then it was a time of peace. 3 years later, my company was shipped off to war, and we endured many hardships, eventually meeting our goal, but losing good soldiers as well. When I had returned home, my village called me a hero for saving not only them, but all of Hyrule. Apperantly, the rest of my company was also. then, 6 years later, I awoke to find a statue of me in the central plaza of the village. I was captured for trying to touch it. To make a long story short, I escaped, taking my weapons," he drew the Grayswandir and Fenrir," And putting the man in charge out of commision for a few days. And now I'm here. But from what I can remember, there weren't any Hellriders around when I returned. So I'm traveling with Meathos to find out what's happened these past 6 years. I didn't recognise anyone when I woke up. What was worse, I couldn't find any of my family or friends. When I asked, they started calling me crazy."

"That's so sad."

"Yes, but its good to talk it out. Even if it brings...pain. But I always remember what my father would tell me, 'Even if we're apart, our hearts will be together.'"

"Well, I'm gonna go mingle some more. Nice to meet you!"

As Malon walked away, Albert said to himself, "Emille, why aren't you here now?"

* * *

Night fell on the War Wagon. The wearied travelers, asleep, save for one. Gnisal hadn't slept soundly in almost fifteen years, not since his gift came to him. Being one with the shadows, Gnisal had a certain aversion to the light. However, when darkness fell, the Sheikah was a different man. Everything, including the trees, the road, even Gnisal's fellow travelers, were cloaked in shadow. He could feel all of them, the rocks, the trees, even his newfound friends. Why would he waste such an exhilarating moment such as this on sleep?

Sirithe, the Wolfpack Hylian, was one of Gnisal's newest friends. Friend. The assassin remarked at how little he had ever used that word. Sometimes while traveling undercover, he would have to lie about certain friendships to gain access to secure areas. Now, he saw neither profit nor loss in calling people friends. He was just…doing it. The whole situation was baffling him.

One of the shadows approached. It was Meathos, the Hellrider. Amongst all the newfound companions, Gnisal trusted Meathos above all. Only Jedam, the honorable Gerudo, was close to challenging him. Perhaps the only distinction he made between the two was Hylian and Gerudo. Even after the events at Kakariko, Gnisal still maintained some of his old programming. The shadows covering Meathos sung out to Gnisal, and he longed to sing back.

"Can't sleep?" Meathos whispered quietly to the Sheikah.

"I haven't slept in…so long…" Gnisal replied. "Not since I found my gift. The shadows, I can feel them, sense them, taste each distinct form they caress. At this moment, I am everything I see. The rocks, the trees, the blades of grass…everything. Including you, Hellrider."

"Heh," Meathos snorted. "Then maybe you can tell me why I can't sleep."

Gnisal quieted himself, listening to the whispers of the shadows.

"You want…silence…" Gnisal said. "But it's not a silencing of the world. It's a silencing of… yourself?"

After a pause, Meathos grunted, turning back to his preferred sleeping spot, eager to suppress the bombs in his mind with a few hours of liberating sleep.

The Sheikah turned back to his companions, feeling their shadows. Ayame was cold. She had sheltered him through the day, giving him solace from the piercing rays of light. Now he would shepherd her through the night. Gnisal closed his eyes, and with a whisper of the wind and a puff of smoke he vanished, reappearing at Ayame's side.

Whatever had happened to her, it had been rough, Gnisal assumed. She bore the scars of many engagements, and carried an arsenal that Gnisal could appreciate. Unstrapping the cloak that the Gerudo had lent him, Gnisal laid it gently on her back. Ayame stirred, and briefly awoke to a light puff of smoke and a whisper of the wind.

Back where he began, Gnisal stretched out to the shadows again. That auburn haired girl, the one Gnisal snapped at, was sleeping soundly nearby. The shadows told him her name was Malon. Eventually he would have to apologize for how he reacted. A young girl's feelings are easily shaken. Even so, Gnisal didn't want to see a young novice slaughtered before his eyes. Especially one so…naïve. He needed to toughen her up, if she was to survive. Right then and there the Sheikah swore he would do his best to protect her.

Gnisal could sense the honorable tang of Jedam permeating through his shadows. The Gerudo had proven himself time and time again to the group. Gnisal knew he could trust the Gerudo. He knew that if he couldn't trust Jedam due to his actions, he couldn't even trust himself. Jedam was practically his shadow, a mirror image born on an opposite plane. If he asked of it, Jedam would have Gnisal's swords and skills at his side, just as the Sheikah knew Jedam would fight for him.

The Goron slept loudly, and Gnisal knew better than to awaken him. He knew how dangerous a Goron could be. He just hoped that this one was not familiar with the half dozen assassinations that Gnisal performed in Death Mountain. The Gorons saw each other as brothers; Gnisal wondered, had he had a brother, how he would react to his murder. The Sheikah stifled his doubts, and told himself he would prove himself to their kind, starting with this one. The shadows told him that it's name was Cahir.

There were others, a Hylian named Jack and a…something called Albert. Gnisal trusted neither. Of course, it could just be because he knew neither of them. They didn't need his protection, and as far as Gnisal was concerned hadn't earned it yet.

Gnisal sighed, and began the ritual he had done every night he could spare since he first discovered his gift. Having seen every shadow on his companions, Gnisal turned his power on himself. What could he sense? The 13 in Gnisal's hands burned as he sensed his own emotions and desires. Shame…Fear…Guilt…and a craving for vengeance? Was this what he was at this moment? The personification of these passions?

The Sheikah spent the rest of the night contemplating these emotions, and quickly slid into the shadows come daylight.

* * *

"Malon," said a voice "Malon, come here, Malon." Malon looked up and saw a black haired woman with green eyes standing in front of her. She seemed so... familiar. As if someone had brought back a forgotten memory. An auburn hair man with green eyes walked up to them and smiled "Malon my baby." Malon looked at him and smiled. She felt at home now, never to be alone. "Malon." The black haired woman said touching Malon's head. Everything started going fuzzy and Malon felt herself being pulled from the people.

Malon woke up in the back of the WarWagon to silence. She turned over and did not see Ayame. She slept long but she was still very tired. She hoped out of the WarWagon and searched for Albert. If anyone knew how she felt, it was him. They both were lost in Hyrulian society and they could relate feelings to each other. She walked over to a shadow. Her black eyes could not adapt to the dark so well, unlike they did to the light. She tried to make out who it was but she couldn't see the face.

"Excuse me, have you seen Albert?"

To Malon's surprise, it was Meathos she was talking to.

"I think he's over there, Malon."

Meathos pointed towards a shadow moving very slowly.

"Thank you."

Malon walked to the shadow

"Albert?"

"Yes?"

Malon sighed with relief. She was glad she found Albert.

"I had a very strange dream. It was like someone brought back parts of my memory lost in the sands of time."

"Really?"

"Yes. I came to you because I know you could understand me. My dream was of two people who I know but don't. They were calling me 'Baby' and saying 'Come here'. I tried to go, but then I woke up."

"That's odd. Maybe they were your foster parents friends?"

"No. I know their friends. They were snobs."

"Well, I don't know then. Why did you come to me again?"

"Because we are both lost in this land of Hyrule anymore. I don't know what's true and what's not and you don't know much about Hyrule anymore period."

"True."

"Thank you for listening. I really needed to talk to someone."

"No problem Malon. I'm here for you."

Malon walked away and the tired feeling returned. Oh yeah, my stupid eyes can't see in the dark so it's virtually useless and a waste of energy for me to be awake. Malon curled up in a ball and closed her eyes. Her rags kept her warm and the occasional passerby gave off even more heat. She slept with a smile on her face because her mind wandered back to the people she saw in the dream.

* * *

'Sleep. What in the world was it good for? Rest? Rest is a rare thing. Relaxation? Oh, yes, so much relaxation... Revelation? ...Perhaps.' Meathos' mind argued with itself as he lay armourless, defenceless, in a small tent.

The blasts refused to quiet. They were almost entertaining, an intricate choir, orchestra of destruction. With each crushing, deafening bellow came a memory, a feeling. With each roar, a face. He hated the night. Everything seemed louder at night, as if the world itself stopped, cringed, and waited for the final bomb to drop, and for him to snap.

Then, above all valiant instruments within his delicate yet brutal chorus, the sky roared as lightning cracked it. Meathos jolted from his waking dream. He groaned, felt the hoarseness of his throat, and looked around with his wide, bloodshot eyes. He pushed his dark hair back, propped himself on his right arm and felt satisfied at the cracks he felt and heard reverbirate throughout his bones. He crawled from his shelter, cracking his back, and stood out in the open field.

Rain. He hadn't felt it in... Too long. The blackened clouds rolled towards eachother, clashed, and rained pure, refreshing liquid shrapnel upon the fields of Hyrule. The battle in the sky mimicked the battle in the desert, there was no clear winner, and it never seemed to end.

For hours, Meathos stood, head bowed, drenched. The thunder, the drumming on his head and shoulders... Soothing. Calming, deafening. His pains were easing, his mind was slowly, ever so slowly, untying itself. His aches, the pains he had suffered on the Front, were no longer prodding him. Their edges now blunt, Meathos looked up. The moon hung high, still, its light dimmed, choked, smothered by the armies of the sky. 'How true'.

Meathos sighed, and turned to walk back to the camp. He hadn't realized just how far he'd come... He could see the wagon, the tents. He was safe. For the first time, he felt safe, in the middle of a field rumored to be home to thousands of unholy beasts, under a thunderstorm, wet, unarmed and defenceless, in the middle of the night. His guard was down. For the first time in a long time, he walked, not marched.

His left leg limped. His knee had been twisted and battered three times, seriously, on the front. His left hip had also been twisted out of place. It no longer agreed to allow a full stride from his right leg. His right shoulder had been broken in his first tour. His left often came out of it's socket. His head hung slightly, he was under the weight of the world.

"Troubled?" Gnisal whispered on the air. He appeared on Meathos' left, smirking ever so slightly.

Meathos looked at the Shiekah, raised an eyebrow, and chuckled a bit.

"Ahh, feeling better..." They continued to walk for a short bit. "Now, what I don't get about you, Hellrider, is why you do what you do. You were wrongfully accused, were you not?"

"Your shadows should tell you that much,"

"Coward?" Gnisal finished the sentance. "By your standards, indeed. By many standards, I am a reaper of all that cowardice has to offer... But I have kept my mind. Can you say that much? You could easily have stayed in your cell. Killed me and the Gerudo, if you had to. You could be back on duty, as a true Captain, rather than one in borrowed robes..."

"Yet, you trust me." Meathos quickened his pace slightly.

"And you me. What you have done is unforgiveable. You know that. There is a price on our heads that not even Hyrule and Ardania can pay... No matter what we, you, do, it will not change it."

Meathos stopped, and faced the Shiekah. He looked down at the assassin, grabbed his arm, and showed him the leather strips he wished to rid himself of. "That explains it."

Meathos did not pay attention to what Gnisal did next. Instead, he simply walked back to his tent, and began his transformation back into the Hellrider. But before he did, he heard one phrase come from the shadows: "Panzer Battalion".

'Wonderful. More tanks.' His helmet fell upon his head with a hollow plop.


End file.
